THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


WILD  WOEK; 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RED  RIVER   TRAGEDY. 


BY 

MARY   E.   BRYAN, 

AUTHOK  OP   "  MAXCn." 


NEW  YORK: 
D.   APPLETON"    AND    COMPANY, 

1,  3,  AND  5  BOND  STREET. 

1881. 


OOPTBIGHT  BT 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 

1881, 


TO 
HON.  ALEXANDER  H.  STEPHENS, 

THE   WISE   STATESMAN,    THE   JUST   COUNSELOR, 

THE    TRUE    FRIEND    OP    HIS    COUNTRY    AND    OP    HUMANITY, 

THIS    BOOK    IS    REVERENTLY 


602747 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2009  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/wildworkstoryofrOObrya 


A  WOED  BEFOEE.— BY  TELE  AUTHOR. 


"The  reign  of  the  carpet-bagger  "—a  troublous,  tran- 
sition period— was  rich  in  dramatic  features.  Abnormal 
conditions  of  government  and  society  brought  out  un- 
wonted lights  and  shades  of  character  and  gave  rise  to 
extraordinary  incidents. 

Particularly  was  this  true  of  the  States  west  of  the 
Mississippi,  where  comparative  freedom  from  social  re- 
straints fostered  individuality  and  independence  of  char- 
acter—too often  to  a  lawless  extent.  There  the  Ku-klux 
proper,  with  its  mask  and  mummery,  was  little  known. 
The  protest  against  the  "  carpet-bag  dynasty "  was  there 
more  boldly  uttered.  If  at  times  it  found  expression  in 
the  violence  of  a  mob,  at  other  times  it  wrought  through 
manoeuvres  that  showed  a  genius  for  state-craft,  and,  in 
one  instance  at  least,  the  results  it  brought  about  partook 
of  the  character  of  a  revolution. 

The  author  of  "Wild  Work"  has  sought  to  reproduce 
a  few  scenes  of  that  time  and  region  with  an  eye  solely  to 
their  dramatic  aspect,  not  distorted  by  sectional  prejudice 
and  not  disturbed  by  political  side-lights. 


yi  A    WORD  BEFORE. 

The  incidents  of  tlie  story  are,  however,  not  all  photo- 
graphed from  life.  Some  of  these  have  their  outlines  of 
fact  colored  by  imagination ;  others  are  wholly  fictitious. 
The  catastrophe  in  which  the  story  culminates  will  be 
recognized  as  one  which  has  a  place  in  the  Nation's  rec- 
ords. There  it  forms  the  most  tragic  chapter  in  the  history 
of  reconstruction.  It  has  been  called  the  "blackest  blot 
upon  the  South,"  and  the  blame  of  it  has  been  saddled 
upon  the  people  of  an  entire  section.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing  the  researches  of  the  Government's  Investigating  Com- 
mittee, the  true  nature  of  the  tragedy  was  never  unveiled. 
It  remains  a  mystery.  Accident  had  given  the  writer  of 
this  story  a  glimpse  behind  the  veil,  and  it  is  believed  that 
the  theory  of  the  character  and  cause  of  the  tragedy  which 
is  developed  in  "Wild  Work"  is  the  true  one,  though  a 
thread  of  romance  is  interwoven  with  the  warp  of  fact. 

"Wild  Work,"  written  while  the  scenes  it  reproduces 
were  fresh  in  the  author's  mind,  was  first  published  as  a 
serial  in  a  literary  paper— the  "  Sunny  South."  Two  years 
after  its  publication  "A  Fool's  Errand"  appeared,  and 
several  newspaper  reviewers  of  the  book  called  attention  to 
the  similarity  of  one  of  its  incidents — "A  Eace  against 
Time" — to  an  incident  in  "Wild  Work."  This  resem- 
blance was  probably  accidental,  or  it  may  be  that  the  inci- 
dent in  each  case  was  suggested  by  the  same  real  occur- 
rence, and  that  Judge  Tourgee  had  heard  of  the  Louisiana 
girl— known  to  the  writer  of  "Wild  Work"— who  saved 
the  life  of  a  carpet-bag  post  commander  by  riding  across  a 
wild  country  at  night  to  warn  him  of  his  danger.     Only 


A    WORD  BEFORE.  vii 

the  Judge  has  seen  fit  to  make  the  heroine  of  his  spirited 
"Race  against  Time"  a  Northern  girl. 

Once  more  insisting  that  "Wild  Work"  takes  its  view 
of  the  carpet-bag  era  simply  from  a  dramatic  standpoint, 
and  through  no  distorting  lens  of  sectional  or  party  feeling 
— out  of  place  in  a  story — the  book  is  left  to  find  what 
friends  it  may. 


WILD    WORK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  KED  sunset  flamed  over  the  great  wall  of  woods  that 
stood  against  the  horizon  in  the  distance,  seeming  to  guard 
the  acres  of  level,  fertile  fields  that  stretched  from  its  foot 
to  the  steep  bank  of  the  river.  Half  the  stream  was  lighted 
by  the  glow  ;  the  other  half  lay  in  the  lengthening  shadow 
of  the  deep  bank.  On  the  illuminated  side,  the  bank  ex- 
hibited in  one  place  a  natural  terrace,  beneath  which  sloped 
down  a  ''second  bank  "—a  sand-bar  projecting  into  the  river, 
sparsely  fringed  by  willows  and  young  cottonwood-trees. 
To  one  of  these  was  tied  a  large  flat  for  ferrying  people  and 
horses  across  the  river,  and  through  the  trees  that  grew  on 
the  upper  bank  could  be  seen  the  cabin  of  the  negro  ferry- 
man. Up  to  this  cabin  there  rode  a  party  of  three,  two 
young  girls  well  mounted  and  tastefully  habited,  followed 
by  a  gray-haired  negro  attendant,  mounted  on  a  mule  that 
seemed  as  ancient  as  himself. 

Stopping  in  front  of  the  cabin,  the  old  negro  uttered  a 
''hello!"  that  was  only  answered  by  the  echoes  of  the 
opposite  bank. 

Again  and  again  he  called,  but  without  response ;  the 
old  ferryman  was  either  soundly  asleep  or  absent.     Getting 


4  WILD    WORK. 

down  from  his  mule,  the  old  negro  approached  the  cabin 
to  make  investigations,  while  the  two  girls  rode  along  the 
path  to  the  water's  edge — the  taller  of  the  two,  a  lithe, 
slender  brunette,  with  a  style  in  her  moyements  and  closely- 
fitting  black  habit  that  bespoke  intercourse  with  fashion- 
able society,  checked  her  horse  and  took  from  her  pocket 
an  envelope,  the  seal  of  which  was  already  broken.  As  she 
took  out  and  unfolded  the  enclosure,  her  companion  touched 
the  closely-written  sheets  with  her  riding- whip,  saying  : 

*' You  can't  read  that  now.  I  imagine  that  to  enjoy  a 
love-letter  one  must  take  it  as  the  butterfly  takes  the  blos- 
som he  likes — leisurely  and  daintily.  You  will  have  to 
wait  till  we  get  home." 

^^  Yes  ;  and  it  seems  that  will  never  be.  Why  doesn't 
Uncle  Jake  come  on  with  the  ferryman  ?  Yonder  he  is 
now,  and  nobody  with  him.  Uncle  Jake,  where  is  the 
ferryman  ?  " 

**Lord  knows.  Missy.  He  door  done  locked  ;  and  I  call 
him  till  my  throat  most  split,  thouten  gitten'  any  answer. 
Spec'  I'll  have  to  try  to  put  you  over  myself." 

'^ That's  a  good  enough  idea;  you  can  take  us  over,  I 
know,  as  well  as  any  ferryman  on  the  river.  Let's  hurry 
and  get  in  the  flat.  The  sun  has  been  down  these  ten 
minutes,"  said  the  brunette,  Zoe  Vincent,  springing  from 
the  saddle,  and  stepping  lightly  with  lifted  skirts  to  the  flat. 

*^It's  hurry  for  true  Missy,  case  de  Monsoon's  comin' 
round  de  bend.  Dat's  her  puffin'  and  snortin'  so ;  and 
she'll  be  around  in  no  time.  De  Monsoon  ain't  a  boat  to 
fool  wid." 

"  Best  wait  till  she  goes  past,"  said  Adelle  Holman, 
who  stood  holding  a  beautiful  mare  by  the  bridle.  But 
Uncle  Jake  demurred. 

'*  It's  powerful  late,  and  I  ain't  had  a  mouthful  since 
brekfust,  'cept  de  cheese  and  crackers  you  give  me.  Miss 


WILD    WOBK.  5 

Dell.  Dat  Cohatchie's  a  mighty  unneighborly  place  for  to 
spend  de  day  in.  A  gentleman  kin  stand  round  dere  all 
day  hongry,  and  not  a  soul'll  ax  him  in  to  git  a  bite.  We 
might  as  well  be  gittin'  over  here ;  I'll  have  to  make  two 
trips,  anyway.  I  can't  carry  over  all  three  o'  dem  bosses 
to  onct ;  I'll  take  yer  over  and  de  mare,  and  by  dat  time  de 
boat  will  be  done  gone  by.  Den  I  come  arter  old  Sol  and 
de  Gray." 

While  he  talked,  he  was  unfastening  the  flat;  lifting 
the  chain,  he  threw  it  in  with  a  resounding  clang.  Then 
he  led  in  Adelle's  mare,  and  the  girls  stepped  in  and  stood 
in  the  rear  of  the  flat,  Adelle  placing  her  arm  around  Zoe 
to  steady  her  city-raised  friend,  who  was  less  accustomed 
than  herself  to  this  mode  of  crossing  water. 

''Now  be  spry,  Uncle  Jake,"  she  said,  and  the  old  man 
responded  bravely  ;  but  he  met  with  a  difficulty  at  the  out- 
set in  pushing  off,  for  the  flat  was  aground,  and  it  required 
no  little  exertion  and  a  loss  of  precious  time  to  shove  the 
unwieldy  bulk  off  into  water  that  would  float  it.  When 
this  was  finally  effected,  the  sound  of  the  steamer's  revolv- 
ing wheels  and  the  piff-paff  of  her  escape-pipe  sounded 
alarmingly  near.  Old  Jake's  knotty  hands  trembled  nerv- 
ously as  they  grasped  the  oars  and  pulled  for  the  opposite 
shore.  He  did  well  enough  until  he  struck  the  swift, 
strong  current  of  the  river  ;  then,  in  spite  of  his  desperate 
efforts,  the  flat  made  little  headway.  The  current  grew 
stronger  every  minute ;  the  old  man  strained  to  the  oars 
with  all  his  might,  but  in  vain.  The  flat  was  turned  slow- 
ly sideways  by  the  stream  and  began  to  drift  down,  instead 
of  going  across.  Seeing  the  emergency,  Adelle  sprang  to 
a  seat  beside  the  old  negro,  seized  one  of  the  oars,  and,  with 
an  encouraging  word  to  him,  joined  in  his  efforts  to  right 
the  flat.  For  a  moment,  it  seemed  as  if  they  might  be 
successful,  but  the  next  instant  the  oar  broke  off  short  in 


6  WILD    WORK. 

the  negro's  hand  ;  he  turned  his  black  face  in  blank  dis- 
may upon  Adelle.  At  the  same  instant,  the  signal  lights 
of  the  steamer  came  into  sight,  as  the  Monsoon  rounded 
the  bend,  and  seemed  to  head  directly  for  them. 

^'  De  Lord  above  !  We'll  be  runned  over  in  three  jumps 
of  a  rabbit,  and  I  can't  swim  a  lick  ! "  cried  old  Jake,  the 
perspiration  streaming  down  his  ebony  face. 

Adelle  dropped  the  oar,  and  turned  a  startled  glance 
upon  the  red  and  green  signals.  They  seemed  to  glare 
ominously,  as  there  flashed  into  her  mind  the  stories  she 
had  heard  of  skiffs  and  flats  being  run  over  by  the  river 
steamers,  whose  night  watch  were  not  always  as  careful  as 
they  should  be. 

The  sight  had  a  paralyzing  effect  upon  old  Jake.  Down 
he  fell  in  a  heap  in  the  flat  and  began  to  pray.  Adelle 
shook  him  by  the  shoulder. 

'^  Get  up,'*  she  said.  '^  Take  this  handkerchief  and 
wave  it,  and  shout  to  the  boat  as  loud  as  you  can  for  your 
life." 

Then,  as  he  rose  and  did  her  bidding,  she  went  back  to 
the  rear  of  the  flat,  where  stood  Zoe,  with  a  white  face,  and 
the  mare,  with  head  erect  and  ears  pricked  forward,  seem- 
ing to  comprehend  the  situation. 

''Zoe,"  she  said,  "if  the  boat  doesnH  stop,  you  must 
get  upon  Fleta  and  make  her  jump  into  the  river.  She 
will  swim  to  shore,  and,  if  you  will  only  hold  on  tightly, 
she  will  carry  you  safe." 

'*  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Swim,  if  I  can  ;  I  used  to  swim  a  little.  Here,  I  think 
you  will  have  to  try  Fleta,  the  boat  does  not  seem  to  see 
us,"  she  continued,  with  her  strained  gaze  fixed  on  the 
lighted  monster  bearing  down  straight  in  their  direction 
as  they  drifted  helplessly  in  the  middle  of  the  stream.  No 
one  was  to  be  seen  on  deck,  it  being  the  hour  for  the  early 


WILD    WORK.  -7 

supper  of  Western  steamers,  nor  were  there  any  signs  that 
the  white  signal  had  been  seen,  or  that  any  one  had  heard 
Jake's  Yociferous  shouts  of  '^  Stop  ;  stop  ;  help  ;  stop  yer 
boat  dere.  You'se  ^bout  to  run  over  white  folks.  Hold 
up,  you  dere  1 " 

Then  dropping  his  voice  to  a  hoarse  mutter,  '^  Lordy 
messy  !  Eder  she  won't  hold  up,  or  she  can't.  Here  she 
comes  right  down  upon  us,  and  yonder  dem  niggers  in  der 
cabins  at  old  Mr.  Pyle's  place,  a  eatin'  der  supper,  and  let- 
tin'  us  be  drownded  before  der  eyes." 

"  Come,"  said  Adelle,  calm  in  spite  of  her  white  lips. 
'^  Come,  Zoe,  and  let  me  help  you  upon  Fleta." 

But  at  that  instant  her  arm  was  grasped  by  Uncle 
Jake  in  a  sudden  paroxysm  of  joy. 

^^  Bless  de  Lord  ;  we'se  saved  ! "  he  exclaimed  ;  *'  Look, 
missy ! "  He  pointed  to  a  skiff  rapidly  nearing  the  flat 
from  the  side  of  the  river  they  had  lately  left.  Sinewy 
arms  propelled  it  with  a  will,  and  in  a  moment  it  was 
alongside  them.  The  tall,  active  oarsman  seized  the  chain 
of  the  flat,  and  cried  out  to  those  on  board  : 

^^  Jump  in  the  boat ;  push  the  horse  into  the  river,  old 
man  ;  she  will  swim  ashore. " 

His  voice  inspired  confidence ;  he  was  obeyed  at  once, 
and,  pushing  off  from  the  flat,  with  a  few  long  strokes  of 
the  oar  he  sent  the  skiff  out  of  mid-stream  and  presently 
out  of  danger  of  the  boat,  that  now  bore  down  upon  the 
flat,  crushing  it  under  and  sinking  it,  while  the  mare, 
swimming  gallantly,  neared  the  farther  shore.  Under  shel- 
ter of  the  opposite  bank,  the  two  girls,  huddled  in  the  skiff 
that  tossed  on  the  agitated  water,  looked  on  with  blanched 
faces,  and  shuddered  at  their  near  escape  from  death.  Zoe 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands  ;  Adelle  drew  a  deep  breath,  and 
turned  to  the  stranger,  who  had  so  opportunely  come  to 
the  rescue. 


8  WILD    WORK 

"  We  have  been  saved  from  death,  I  think,  thanks  to 
you,  sir,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand  and  looking  for 
the  first  time  into  his  face.  What  was  there  in  that  face  to 
make  her  start  and  draw  back  her  hand  ?  He  saw  the 
movement,  and  smiled — a  cynical  smile,  that  had  yet  a 
touch  of  proud  patience  in  it. 

*'Yes,  thanks  to  de  Lamb  and  to  you.  Mars  Witchell, 
we'se  'scaped  bein'  squshed  and  drownded  to  death  by  dat 
very  boat  snortin  so  unconsarnedly  down  de  river.  You 
was  sent  here  by  de  Lord  for  to  help  poor  niggers  ;  and 
you're  doin  your  work." 

"Never  mind  that.  Here's  the  bank  ;  get  out  old  man, 
and  take  your  horses  to  the  next  crossing." 

"Next  crossin's  a  mile  above  here  ;  'twill  be  awful  late 
for  de  ladies  to  be  a  ridin' ;  and  how's  dey  goin'  to  ride, 
I'd  like  to  know  ?  Miss  Dell's  mare  done  swim  out  on 
t'other  side,  and  gone  home  like  lightnin'.  Won't  dey  all 
be  wild,  do,  when  dey  see  her  comin'  all  wet,  and  wid  no- 
body on  her  back  ?  Gray,  here,  won't  tote  double  no  how, 
and  old  Sol  won't  let  woman  folks  tech  him,  much  less  git 
on  his  back." 

"My  own  horse  yonder  is  not  safe  for  a  lady  to  ride," 
Captain  Witchell  said,  pointing  to  a  fine-looking  animal, 
standing  loose  where  he  had  leaped  from  him  on  riding 
down  the  bank  and  seeing  the  danger  to  those  in  the  flat. 
"Where  are  you  going,  old  man  ?" 

"To  Mr.  Vincent's  place — Miss  Zoe's  brother." 

"Take  the  horses  on  to  the  crossing.  I  will  row  these 
ladies  home  in  the  skiff." 

"  Don't  put  yourself  to  that  trouble,  sir,  "  interposed 
Adelle,  icily,  "we  can  manage  some  way  with  the  horses,  or 
we  can  walk  home,  if  you  will  hand  the  oar  to  Jake  and  let 
him  put  us  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 

"  Miss  Dell,  ain't  you  shamed  of  yourself,  talkin'  to  Cap- 


WILD    WORK.  9 

tain  Witchell  like  dat,  and  lie  just  done  save  you  from  bein' 
drownded  to  death  !  De  Captain's  not  gwine  to  hurt  you. 
You  better  let  him  take  you  in  de  skiff ;  de  massey  knows 
when  you  gwine  to  git  home,  onless  ;  and  your  pa'll  be  dis- 
tracted about  you." 

But  Adelle  had  risen,  and  was  preparing  to  leave  the 
boat. 

^^Sit  down,  if  you  please,"  commanded  Captain  Wit- 
chell.  ^'  I  shall  take  you  home.  It  is  already  dusk.  ''To 
cross  at  the  upper  ferry  would  throw  you  late  in  the  night. 
You  need  not  look  at  or  speak  to  me,  and  I  shall  have  no- 
thing to  say  to  you.  I  shall  land  you  safely  at  home  ;  then 
my  duty  will  be  done." 

As  he  spoke  he  pushed  the  boat,  from  which  the  negro 
had  just  stepped,  away  from  the  bank,  and  began  to  pull 
steadily  and  swiftly  down  stream,  after  a  word  to  Jake  to 
tell  him  to  fasten  his  horse  where  the  animal  stood. 

The  trip  was  accomplished  almost  in  silence.  The  girls 
sat  together  in  the  back  part  of  the  boat,  their  eyes  fixed 
with  a  kind  of  fascination  upon  the  straight,  soldierly  figure 
that  wielded  the  oars,  his  profile  sometimes  turned  partly 
to  them,  showing  the  bold  outlines  of  throat  and  chin,  the 
firm  nose,  the  close-set  mouth,  with  the  slightly  scornful 
lines  about  it,  the  thick  light  hair  thrown  back  from  the 
well-poised  head. 

A  full  moon  had  risen  over  the  dark  rampart  of  woods 
that  bounded  the  distant  prospect,  and  long  streams  of  sil- 
ver light  glorified  the  murky  river  and  eclipsed  the  linger- 
ing rosiness  of  sunset.  Adelle's  lovely  face  looked  pale 
under  her  dark  riding  hat,  and  changes  of  expression 
passed  over  her  sensitive  mouth  and  eyes,  which  still  kept, 
however,  the  look  of  haughty  reserve  that  had  come  over 
them  at  first  sight  of  Captain  Witchell's  face. 

Zoe  had  her  rich  cheek  buried  in  her  ungloved  hand. 


10  WILD    WORK. 

that  had  a  diamond  flashing  on  the  betrothal  finger.  She 
had  turned  her  dark  eyes  wonderingly  from  her  friend  to 
Captain  Witchell  when  Adelle  had  so  coldly  declined  any 
further  service  from  the  man  who  had  just  rescued  them  ; 
but  a  whispered  sentence  served  to  make  her  understand. 
She  nodded  her  head  acquiescingly,  and  remained  silent, 
save  for  a  murmured  word  to  her  companion,  about  the 
beauty  of  the  night  or  her  fears  that  the  family  would  be 
alarmed  on  their  account. 

A  turn  in  the  river  brought  the  Vincent  plantation  into 
close  proximity.  A  little,  whitewashed  country  store  came 
first  of  the  buildings.  It  was  perched  near  the  shelving 
bank,  while  behind  it  stood  the  stable,  the  corn  crib,  and 
*'lot."  Before  the  gate  of  this  last,  forms  were  seen  mov- 
ing about  confusedly,  and  the  sound  of  excited  voices 
reached  the  ears  of  those  in  the  boat  as  they  neared  the 
landing.  The  mare  Fleta,  dripping  from  her  bath  in  the 
river,  had  a  few  moments  before  stopped  in  front  of  the 
stable,  and  Hugh  Vincent  was  excited  with  apprehensions 
concerning  the  fate  of  his  sister  and  her  friend.  As  he 
caught  sight  'of  the  boat  he  hurried  to  the  bank,  followed 
by  the  negroes  who  had  been  grouped  around  the  trembling 
mare. 

As  the  skiff  grated  upon  the  sand.  Captain  "Witchell 
leaped  out  and  held  the  chain  to  steady  the  little  craft, 
while  the  girls  got  out.  He  offered  them  no  other  assist- 
ance, and  he  merely  bowed  when  Zoe,  stopping  near  him, 
could  not  forbear  saying  : 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  have  put  you  to  all  this  trouble. 
I  thank  you  very  much  for  the  assistance  you  have  ren- 
dered us." 

Adelle's  foot  slipped  as  she  stepped  from  the  skiff ;  she 
would  have  fallen  had  not  Captain  WitchelFs  arm  caugHt 
her  and  placed  her  firmly  on  the  ground.    Confusedly,  she 


WILD    WORK.  11 

murmured  her  thanks.  He  inclined  his  head  slightly  in 
acknowledgment,  leaped  into  the  boat,  and  pushed  off,  as 
Mr.  Vincent  came  down  the  bank,  saying  as  he  met  the 
girls  : 

'*  I  am  glad,  I  tell  you,  to  see  you  two  back  safe.  Fleta 
came  up  a  while  ago  with  the  saddle  and  bridle  on,  wet  as 
a  fish,  and  frightened  me  mightily.  Lucky  I  saw  you 
before  the  alarm  was  carried  to  the  house,  to  scare  your 
father.  Cousin  Dell,  and  my  wife  and  Miss  Floyd  all  for 
nothing.     What  has  happened  ?  " 

*^  We  came  near  being  run  over  by  the  Monsoon,  as  we 
were  crossing  at  Watt's  Ferry,"  explained  Zoe.  *'Anoar 
broke  in  Uncle  Jake's  hand,  and  he  couldn't  manage  the 
flat.  The  boat  was  close  upon  us,  when  a  man  came  to  our 
assistance  with  a  skiff,  just  in  time  to  get  us  off  before  the 
steamer  went  rushing  over  the  flat.  The  mare  had  jumped 
out  and  swum  ashore  ;  the  other  horses  we  had  left  behind 
on  the  bank.  Uncle  Jake  has  gone  to  cross  them  at  the 
upper  ferry,  and  the  man  brought  us  home  in  the  skiff." 

"Did  you  ask  him  in  to  rest,  and  take  supper  with  us  ? 
You  didn't  ?  Well,  it  was  as  little  as  you  could  have  done 
after  his  risk  and  trouble  on  your  account.  Is  that  your 
city  politeness  ?  " 

"  Cousin  Hugh,"  interposed  Adelle,  "the  man  was  Cap- 
tain Witchell.     We  did  not  think  he  would  be  welcome." 

"  Witchell,  the  deuce  !  That  carpet-bag  scoundrel  ?  I 
had  rather  you  owed  a  favor  to  the  blackest  nigger  about 
than  to  one  of  that  set  of  thieves — jackals,  that  come  here 
to  fatten  on  the  carcass  of  our  dead  liberties.  I  wonder 
you  accepted  an  obligation  from  him,  Zoe." 

"  Would  you  have  had  us  drown,  brother  ?  Besides,  we 
didn't  know  the  man  until  after  he  had  rescued  us.  I  had 
never  seen  him,  and  Dell  was  too  much  frightened  to  rec- 
oofnize  him  at  first." 


12  WILD    WORK. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  could  not  be  helped.  Old  Jake  was 
the  one  to  blame.  It's  like  his  thick  head,  trying  to  cross 
at  dusk  with  a  boat  comin'  round  the  bend ;  letting  you 
two  get  under  obligations  to  such  a  d 1  beg  par- 
don, Dell — such  a  rascal  as  Witchell.  I'll  row  him  up 
about  it  when  he  comes.  Of  course,  he  thinks  it  was  all 
right.  It  was  Mars  Witchell — the  god  of  every  darky 
about  here.  I  suppose  he  is  on  his  way  down  here  to 
organize  a  loyal  league  among  the  darkies  and  the  scala- 
wags. I  hear  they  are  to  meet  at  the  nigger  church  on 
the  old  Burns  place  to-night.  A  dark  assembly  it'U  be, 
in  every  sense  of  the  word  ;  only  two  or  three  white  skins 
among  them,  and  they  ashamed  of  their  color,  and  apolo- 
gizing for  it  with  all  their  might.  I  can't  see  why  Witchell 
is  hugging  the  new  voting  power  just  now.  He  can't  want 
more  office  after  Just  being  appointed  District  Judge  by  the 
Governor,  without  the  formality  of  an  election ;  but  he  is 
a  shrewd,  far-sighted  scamp,  and  he  means  to  fly  his  kite 
high,  I  imagine." 

They  had  reached  the  yard  gate — set  in  a  low  paling 
that  was  overrun  with  trumpet  vines.  The  house  was  an 
unpicturesque,  whitey-brown  cottage,  neglected  -  looking, 
like  most  of  the  buildings  of  that  rich,  alluvial  section, 
where  cotton-raising  absorbs  the  energies  and  the  money  of 
the  planters.  But  the  yard  was  covered  with  velvety  grass, 
and  under  a  great  walnut-tree  swung  a  hammock,  from 
which  floated  a  mass  of  white  drapery.  The  occupant  who 
lazily  swayed  therein  was  singing  the  "  Mocking  Bird "  to 
a  guitar  accompaniment,  while  several  children  stood  around 
her  listening.  The  music  stopped ;  the  musician  turned 
around  in  her  hammock. 

"Truants!"  cried  a  voice  like  a  flute,  ''come  here 
and  give  an  account  of  yourselves.  Why  are  you  so 
late?" 


WILD    WORK.  13 

*'  Oh  !  Floyd,  we  have  had  an  adventure  ! "  Zoe  said,  as 
they  approached  the  tree. 

^^An  adventure!  what — in  going  to  and  from  such  a 
stupid  little  village  as  Cohatchie  ?  Did  old  Gray  stumble, 
and  some  shirt-sleeved  knight  of  the  plow  pick  you  up  out 
of  the  mud,  or  did  the  mishap  take  place  in  the  street,  and 
was  it  some  hero  of  the  yard-stick  or  the  sugar-scales  that 
came  to  the  rescue  ?  " 

*' Nonsense,  Floyd  !" 

^^By  the  way,  I've  been  presiding  over  the  scales  and 
the  yard-stick  myself  to-day,  helping  your  brother  in  his 
store.  He  has  had  a  run  of  custom  of  all  colors — darkies 
from  the  plantations  and  swarthy  Creoles  from  the  swamps, 
and  I've  been  weighing  candy  and  measuring  red  ribbons 
as  if  to  the  counter  born.  Mr.  Vincent  declared  I  was  a 
charming  saleswoman." 

She  did  not  add  that  the  young  farmer  and  store-keeper 
had  supplemented  the  compliment  by  the  present  of  a  pret- 
ty dress-pattern,  now  reposing  in  her  trunk.  Floyd  Eeese 
always  took  the  goods  the  gods  sent,  without  scruple  or  in- 
judicious parade.  The  organ  of  secretiveness  was  fully  de- 
veloped in  her  handsome  head. 

'^But  about  your  adventure — what  was  it  ?"  she  asked. 

And  Zoe  recounted  the  story  of  their  escape,  with  more 
of  picturesque  detail  than  she  had  used  in  relating  it  to 
her  brother.  Evidently  it  was  interesting  to  her  listener. 
Floyd  raised  herself  from  her  lazy,  reclining  posture  in  the 
hammock  and  leaned  forward,  looking  into  Zoe's  eyes. 

"Why  in  the  world  did  you  not  ask  him  to  come  in  ?" 
she  cried. 

"Did  you  not  understand,  Miss  Eeese,  that  it  was  Cap- 
tain Witchell,  the  Radical  leader  ?  "  Adelle  asked,  her  face 
full  of  scornful  wonder. 

"  Judge  Witchell,  you  mean,  and  may  be  future  Governor 


14  WILD    WORK. 

of  the  State,"  said  Floyd,  nodding  lier  graceful  head  em- 
phatically. 

"  Through  unjust  measures  and  an  ignorant  negro  vote, 
then,"  cried  Adelle,  indignantly.  ^*What  honor  is  there 
in  office  so  gained  ?  " 

*'  He  is  fast  getting  what  is  better  than  honors  or  office 
— aplenty  of  money — the  stepping-stone  to  everything  else. 
Widow  Ellis  and  Mrs.  Delaney  have  had  to  turn  their  plan- 
tations over  to  him  to  manage,  because  they  could  not  get 
hands,  or  control  them  when  they  were  got.  He  is  coining 
money  out  of  the  lands  they  had  lying  waste.  Then  the 
appropriation  he  got  from  the  State  for  cleaning  out  Lake 
Wisteneau — that  was  a  grand  speculation." 

"A  grand  swindling  scheme,"  flashed  Adelle  ;  *^tliirty 
thousand  dollars  for  clearing  out  a  few  harmless  snags.  To 
pass  guch  a  bill  was  an  outrage." 

Floyd  laughed  musically. 

"No  matter;  they  did  pass  the  bill,  and  the  Captain 
has  pocketed  the  money.  Success  makes  right  in  this 
w^orld,  my  dear.  A  man  who  carries  things  before  him 
like  this  one,  deserves  consideration.  Throw  up  your  hat 
for  the  powers  that  be ;  there  goes  mine  in  the  Captain's 
honor ! " 

She  caught  up  from  her  lap  her  gypsy  leghorn,  stuck 
full  of  purple  flowers  by  the  children,  and  tossed  it  up  by 
its  ribbon  string.  Then  she  jumped  from  the  hammock 
with  a  quick  movement  that  showed  a  shapely,  slippered 
foot,  and  sent  a  mass  of  warm  brown  hair  tumbling  about 
her  shoulders. 

Even  in  the  half  light  the  charm  of  this  woman  could 
be  seen.  The  carmine  glow  in  her  cheeks  and  the  gold 
glints  in  her  hair  were  not  visible,  but  the  outlines  of  a 
most  seductive  shape — at  once  full  and  flexible,  sumptuous 
and  sinuous — made  apparent  that  charm  of  form  so  potent, 


WILD    WOEK.  15 

especially  in  the  eyes  of  men  wlio  are  no  longer  very  youth- 
ful. 

^^  You  were  short-sighted  not  to  have  turned  your  ad- 
venture to  good  account/'  she  said,  shaking  back  her  curls 
and  looking  at  Adelle. 

"If  I  thought  you  were  in  earnest,  Floyd  Reese  !" 

*^Am  I  not,  though?  It  was  a  rare  opportunity,  and 
you  should  have  remembered  your  copy-book  counsel,  and 
'  improved  your  opportunity '  in  this  instance  ;  I  would,  if 
I  had  been  in  your  place." 

Holding  the  guitar  with  one  arm,  she  put  the  other 
around  Adelle's  waist  and  stood  laughing. 

The  younger  girl  shrank  slightly  from  the  embrace — a 
movement  that  did  not  escape  the  quick  discernment  of  the 
other. 

"  Pardon,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner. 
**0f  course,  my  talk  is  to  be  taken  with  the  classic  grain  of 
salt ;  yet,  if  I  should  be  tempted  by  a  full  purse  and  a  bold 
arm,  it  might  not  be  so  bad  for  me — a  moneyless  waif,  with 
none  to  help  me  fight  my  battles  with  the  world.  With 
you  it  is  different;  you  have  the  shelter  of  home  and 
love." 

Her  voice  had  lost  its  light  ring,  and  was  rich  and  sweet, 
seemingly  charged  with  more  emotion  than  was  expressed. 
Her  eyes  were  cast  down  ;  one  would  not  have  thought  they 
had  noted  the  approach  of  Hugh  Vincent ;  but  there  was 
little  that  escaped  the  keen  vision  and  wonderful  intuition 
of  Floyd  Reese. 

Adelle  was  touched  into  forgetfulness  of  the  distrust 
that  had  made  her  shrink,  and  Zoe  said,  reproachfully  : 

*  *  How  can  you  be  so  unkind  to  your  friends  as  to  call 
yourself  friendless,  Floyd  ?  " 

The  stoutly  built,  rather  coarsely  handsome  brother  of 
Zoe  suffered  his  eyes  to  dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  tableau, 


16  WILD    WORK. 

whose  central  figure  was  Floyd,  with  downcast  lashes  and 
picturesquely  falling  hair.     Then  he  said  : 

"  Is  it  too  romantic  out  here  in  the  moonlight;  to  speak 
of  supper,  young  ladies  ?  It  is  waiting,  my  good  wife  says  ; 
and  no  doubt.  Cousin  Dell,  you  and  Zoe  are  very  hungry 
after  your  ride  and  your  rescue.  By  the  way,  I  would  not 
mention  that  last  to  your  father,  Dell.  It  would  worry  him 
uselessly,  for  I  have  sufi&ciently  accounted  for  your  staying 
late.     He  is  so  bitter  against  carpet-baggers." 

"Against  this  man,  especially.  Do  you  not  know. 
Cousin  Hugh,  that  once,  when  he  was  Provost  Marshal,  he 
had  my  father  arrested,  humiliated  before  him,  and  fined  for 
striking  an  insolent  negro.     Think  of  it — my  father  ! " 

She  said  "my  father"  as  proudly  as  though  the  plain. 
Mossy  Valley  farmer  had  been  some  potentate  of  the  land. ; 
and  truly,  if  he  had  been,  she  could  not  have  rendered  him 
*  more  loving  homage.  Besides  being  a  kind  father  he  had 
a  commanding  way  that  became  him  well  at  the  head  of  his 
regiment  in  Confederate  days,  and  still  made  him  looked  up 
to  with  deference  by  his  household  and  his  neighbors. 

His  fine  presence  gave  quite  an  imposing  look  to  Mrs. 
Vincent's  neat  tea-table,  as  the  party  from  the  yard  entered 
the  supper  room.  Adelle  went  up  to  him  and  kissed  him, 
as  was  her  habit  whenever  she  had  been  away  from  him  for 
a  day  or  a  night.  Then  he  bent  his  iron-gray  head  with  a 
fine  grace  to  her  companion,  "  Cousin  Zoe,"  as  he  called  her, 
though  the  tie  of  blood  between  him  and  his  host  was  not 
very  close — just  enough  to  warrant  tlie  Colonel's  stopping 
here  a  few  days  with  his  daughter  on  their  return  from 
New  Orleans. 

His  notice  of  the  girl  who  came  in  behind  the  others 
had  in  it  something  more  to  be  remarked.  His  eye  kin- 
dled with  admiration  as  Floyd  Keese  took  her  seat  at  the 
table  just  opposite.     Why  was  it  ?    Miss  Reese  had  not  the 


WILD    WORK,  IT 

delicate,  regular  features  of  Zoe,  nor  the  sweet,  womanly 
loYeliness  of  Adelle.  But  she  had  that  picturesque,  dramat- 
ic charm  that  excites  curiosity  and  appeals  to  the  imagina- 
tion. It  was  seen  in  her  moyements,  her  postures,  her 
looks,  even  her  dress — not  arranged  with  the  orderly  neat- 
ness of  the  two  other  girls,  but  having  a  negligent  grace  of  its 
own  ;  from  the  full  sleeves  falling  back  to  show  the  round 
arm,  to  the  muslin  folds  caught  low  with  a  rose  under  the 
large  white  throat.  The  charm  of  the  lawless  and  unfet- 
tered hung  about  her  in  spite  of  the  air  of  queenly  self- 
assurance  which  served  to  keep  down  any  utterance  of 
distrust  from  those  who  might  secretly  regard  her  with 
suspicion. 

One  of  these,  it  was  apparent,  was  the  plump,  sun- 
browned  little  wife  of  Vincent,  who  poured  out  coffee  at 
the  head  of  the  well-supplied  table.  Her  pleasant  hostess's 
smile  gave  way  to  a  half  frown  as  Floyd  came  in  talking 
with  Vincent  and  smiling  in  his  face.  Miss  Eeese  had  the 
faculty  of  looking  at  every  man  in  a  way  to  convey  to  him 
a  secret  impression  that  she  was  especially  interested  in 
him ;  and  this,  curiously  enough,  without  being  suspected 
by  other  men  who  might  be  present,  each  of  whom  was 
apt  to  believe  that  he  alone  was  the  object  of  the  lady's  in- 
terest. 

Something  of  this  flattery  was  even  in  the  glance  and 
nod  she  gave  to  a  common-looking  man,  who  came  in 
presently  and  took  a  seat  at  the  table — a  carpenter  hired  by 
Mr.  Vincent  to  work  on  his  cotton-press,  and  just  back 
from  the  town,  where  he  had  been  to  get  a  tool  mended. 

After  the. democratic  fashion  of  the  South,  he  was  asked 
to  eat  at  the  table  with  the  family.  He  was  from  the  same 
neighborhood  as  Colonel  Holman,  and,  as  he  stuck  his  fork 
into  a  ruddy  slice  of  boiled  ham,  he  said  : 

*^  Colonel,  I  saw  your  son  Derrick  in  Cohatchie  this 


18  WILD    WORK. 

evenin'.     He  crossed  over  on  this  side,  too,  at  the  upper 
ferry — not  half  an  hour  before  I  did." 

"  You  saw  my  son  Derrick  in  town  to-day  ?  I  can't 
imagine  what  brings  him  down  here." 

"I  think  I  have  an  inkling  what  he's  up  to,"  returned 
the  other  with  a  knowing  wink.  '*  Derrick  wasn't  by  him- 
self. Half  a  dozen  or  so  of  the  Mossy  Valley  boys  were 
with  him,  and  I  heard  it  hinted  they  were  going  to  have 
some  fun  to-night.  Did  you  know,  Colonel,  that  another 
of  your  folks  was  down  here — no  other  than  Captain  Wit- 
chell  ?  There's  to  be  a  big  nigger  meeting  at  the  old  Bums 
place,  and  the  Captain  comes  down  to  organize  a  Loyal 
League.  The  boys,  so  I  heard,  were  bound  to  interrupt 
the  grand  pow-wow  and  give  it  a  scare,  if  no  more.  I  hope 
they  won't  get  hurt,  nor  into  any  difficulty." 

Adelle  saw  her  father's  face  cloud  anxiously,  but, 
straightening  himself  in  his  seat,  the  old  man  said  stoutly  : 

**  I  should  regret  it,  Mr.  Davis  ;  but  if  they  should  get 
into  a  difficulty — if  blood  was  spilled — even  my  own  son's 
blood,  sir,  I  should  not  grieve,  if  it  might  be  the  means  of 
rousing  our  people  from  their  cowardly  submissiveness. 
Forbearance  in  their  case  has  long  ceased  to  be  a  virtue.  If 
they  are  down  in  the  dust,  need  they  grovel  under  the  foot 
that  crushes  them  ?  Here  we  are  reduced  to  the  most 
humiliating  slavery  that  ever  outraged  a  people — taxed  be- 
yond all  justice,  swindled  on  every  hand,  our  political 
rights  taken  from  us,  our  private  business  interfered  with 
and  disorganized  by  meddlers  that  set  our  ignorant  African 
laborers  against  and  above  us  ;  and  we  submit  to  it  without 
so  much  as  a  protest !    Better  be  dead  at  once  ! " 

"That's  true,  sir,'  assented  the  carpenter,  rather  grati- 
fied at  the  excitement  he  had  caused  ;  *'but  you,  up  in  your 
parish,  are  better  off  in  that  respect  than  we  are.  From 
accounts,  Captain  Witchell  must  be  the  best  of  our  carpet- 


WILD    WORK.  19 

bag  masters  ;  more  just  in  administering  affairs,  and  knows 
how  to  do  a  generous  thing  sometimes." 

**  Yes,  sir  ;  he  knows  how  to  lavish  with  one  hand  what 
he  has  robbed  with  the  other  when  it  is  policy  to  do  so. 
He  is  courting  popularity  with  the  ignorant  whites  ;  why, 
I  don't  know,  since  he  seems  to  get  all  he  wants,  and  no 
thanks  to  them.  He  gets  to  be  judge  without  a  vote 
being  cast.  But  he  will  not  be  allowed  to  hold  court,  sir ; 
never  ! " 

The  old  gentleman's  eye  flashed  :  he  pushed  his  cup  of 
coffee  from  him,  half  full,  and  rose  from  the  table.  His 
daughter  followed  him,  and  as  he  stalked  up  and  down  the 
gallery  she  tucked  her  little  hand  under  his  arm  and  walk- 
ed with  him,  trying  to  mollify  his  mood  by  her  pleasant 
talk.  But,  with  all  her  affectionate  prattle,  she  did  not  suc- 
ceed so  well  as  the  syren  who  came  out  jDresently  and  sat 
down  where  the  moonlight  fell  over  her  and  her  picturesque 
white  drapery. 

''  Sing  '  Nelly '  for  us.  Miss  Floyd,"  cried  one  of  her  two 
little  pupils,  lugging  up  the  inevitable  guitar. 

^^  Oh  dear  ! "  she  said,  but  she  sang  notwithstanding 
— old-fasliioned  songs,  sweet  in  themselves  and  sweeter  by 
association  ;  gay  little  trills  at  first,  and  then  songs  of  love 
and  parting. 

"I'll  play  this  old  drawl  for  you,  especially,  Zoe,"  she 
said.  *' Waft  a  sigh  southward  while  I  sing  that  venerable 
lover's  lament,  'Days  of  Absence.'" 

Zoe  merely  smiled  ;  it  was  not  worth  while  to  blush  at 
allusions  to  her  engagement ;  she  heard  them  so  often  ;  and, 
besides,  her  attachment  to  her  young  lawyer-lover  was  not 
of  the  sort  that  effects  blushes,  being  quiet  and  dispassion- 
ate as  it  was  sincere.  She  had  no  girlish  shjmess  at  hearing 
their  marriage  discussed.  She  had  looked  forward  to  it  so 
seriously  that  she  seemed  already  Royal  West's  wife,  as  in- 


20  WILD    WORK. 

deed  she  would  have  been  had  not  her  mother's  recent  death 
postponed  their  marriage. 

Soon  afterward  her  home  in  New  Orleans  was  broken 
up ;  her  father  went  to  Cuba  to  establish  a  business,  and 
she  came  to  live  with  her  married  brother  at  his  river-side 
farm. 

^^Now  sing  something  to  suit  Cousin  Dell,"  the  chil- 
dren cried  when  the  dolorous  ^^ drawl"  was  finished. 

**Yes,  I  will,"  Floyd  said.  *^ Lines  to  her  who  will 
understand  them  ;  "  and  she  sang  **Norah's  Vow." 

"  Hear  what  Highland  Norah  said, 
*  The  Earlie's  son  I  will  not  wed, 
Though  all  the  race  of  nature  die, 
And  none  be  left  save  he  and  I.' 

But  Korah's  vow  is  lost  and  won, 
She's  wedded  to  the  Earlie's  son." 

**now  is  that  applicable  to  Adelle,  Miss  Eeese  ?"  Colo- 
nel Holman  asked,  stopping  beside  the  singer. 

"It  is  prophetic,"  she  laughed,  unmindful  of  the 
haughty  look  Adelle  threw  at  her  upon  this  allusion  to 
their  conversation  this  evening,  and  to  an  adventure,  a 
knowledge  of  which  she  knew  would  destroy  all  her  father's 
hardly  regained  good  humor. 

She  quitted  the  group  on  the  gallery  and  went  into  a 
room  that  opened  upon  it — Mrs.  Vincent's  room — where 
the  little  mother  sat  rocking  her  fretful  baby  to  sleep  with 
a  weary  look  on  her  face.  Adelle  took  the  baby  and  soon 
succeeded,  through  her  gift  in  soothiiig,  in  getting  it  to 
sleep.  As  she  sat,  with  the  little  head  against  her  bosom, 
a  sweeter  picture  than  Raphael's  Madonna,  she  said  : 

*^  Cousin  Monde,  who  is  Miss  Eeese  ?" 

"Ah  !  who  is  she,  indeed  ?"  returned  the  little  matron, 
suddenly  animated.     *'I  would  like  to  have  that  question 


WILD    WORK.  21 

answered  to  my  own  satisfaction.  I  never  saw  her  before 
Hugh  brought  her  down  two  months  ago,  to  teach  May 
and  Eob  ;  though  I  had  heard  bits  of  her  history — her  his- 
tory, mind,  according  to  herself,  which  may  be  true  as  gos- 
pel for  aught  I  know.  She  suddenly  appeared  in  the  neigh- 
borhood above  Cohatchie,  one  day  last  fall ;  went  to  see 
Judge  Clark,  who  is  a  well-to-do,  kind-hearted  old  gentle- 
man, and  made  the  Masonic  sign  of  distress,  and  then  told 
him  her  story — how  she  had  crossed  the  river  from  the 
Texas  side  in  the  night — a  stormy  night,  too — that  she  was 
followed  and  pursued  as  far  as  the  river  by  her  guardian, 
who  was  a  very  bad  man,  and  wanted  to  get  all  her  property 
for  his  own  use.  With  this  object,  he  had  pretended  that 
she  was  crazy,  and  shut  her  up  somewhere.  When  she 
made  her  escape,  he  followed  her.  He  had  thought,  so  she 
hoped,  that  she  had  been  drowned  while  trying  to  cross  the 
river  in  the  darkness  and  storm.  It  was  her  intention  to 
stay  in  this  State  until  she  was  twenty-one,  and  then  return 
to  Texas  and  prosecute  her  guardian,  and  recover  her  prop- 
erty. As  she  must  earn  her  support  till  then,  she  begged 
Judge  Clark  to  help  her.  He  did  ;  he  enlisted  the  Masons 
and  church  members  in  her  behalf,  and  obtained  for  her 
a  school.  But  somehow  she  was  dissatisfied ;  the  school 
taxed  her  too  much  :  she  saw  my  husband  and  told  him 
how  greatly  she  would  prefer  to  teach  a  few  children  in  a 
private  family  ;  and  he  offered  her  a  place  with  us.  I  trust 
he  may  never  regret  it. " 

^'  Is  she  not  a  good  teacher  ?  " 

"Yes,  she  does  well  enough  in  that  way,  I  suppose, 
though  it's  easy  to  see  she  is  not  used  to  teaching,  and  she 
is  no  disciplinarian ;  at  one  time  romping  with  the  children 
like  another  child,  then  cold  and  moody  and  cross.  But  it's 
not  that  I  object  to  so  much.  She  has  managed  to  make 
herself  first  in  the  house — her  wishes  and  opinions  to  be 


22  TfTZT)    WOr.A^. 

considered  first  by  servants,  children,  and  even  Hugh.  No 
woman  likes  to  be  made  of  second  importance  in  her  own 
house." 

*'No;  I  should  think  not." 

"Married  women  have  cares  and  troubles  enough,  if 
they  do  their  duty  faithfully.  They  ought,  at  least,  to  be 
a  sort  of  queen  in  their  own  little  home — that's  my  idea ; 
but  you  don't  always  see  it  so  ;  far  from  it,  sometimes.  Mar- 
ried life  is  not  the  honey-sweet  cup  that  girls  are  apt  to 
think  it.  But  there  !  I've  no  business  putting  a  bitter 
taste  for  it  in  your  mouth  beforehand,  and  you  to  try  it 
yourself  so  soon,  cousin." 

"I?  who  told  you  so?" 

**  Your  father  and  I  were  talking  about  you  to-day — in 
here  by  ourselves — and  he  told  me  you  were  engaged,  or  as 
good  as  engaged,  to  Eichard  Lanier — your  near  neighbor. 
I  used  to  know  the  family  well." 

"  Papa  told  you  that  ?  "  said  Adelle. 

She  had  turned  pale,  and  she  rose  hurriedly  and  laid  the 
baby  in  his  little  crib.  She  tucked  the  soft  white  covering 
around  him  to  gain  time,  before  she  faced  Mrs.  Vincent  and 
said  : 

"  Cousin  Monde,  don't  speak  of  that  again — to  me  or 
any  one,  please.  There  is  nothing  settled,  and  I  don't 
think—" 

**  Why,  your  father  seemed  so  pleased." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Richard's  land  joins  ours  ;  he  is  Der- 
rick's friend — a  brave,  hot-headed  fellow,  but — I  don't 
think  I  will  ever  marry ;  I  like  my  girl-life  too  well  to 
change  it."  She  walked  to  the  open  window,  and  stood 
there,  wondering  why  the  mention  of  Richard  Lanier  jarred 
on  her  so.  The  picture  of  him  that  rose  before  her — the 
slim,  swarthy  face ;  the  small,  keen  eyes,  so  watchful  of 
her — was  absolutely  repugnant. 


WILD    WORK  23 

^^I  believe  I  am  tired,"  she  said,  wearily;  "I  will  say 
good-niglit,  and  go  to  bed.   Zoe  lias  already  gone  up  stairs." 

Zoe  was  re-reading  the  letter  she  had  got  from  the  Co- 
liatchie  post-office  that  day. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  how  he  looks,  Dell  ?  "  she  asked, 
holding  up  a  small  card-picture  that  had  come  with  the 
letter. 

It  was  a  refined  face  that  Adelle  held  to  catch  the  lamp- 
light. It  was  a  good  face,  too.  The  mouth  was  gentle,  the 
eyes  had  a  frank  breadth  between  them  and  a  steady,  truth- 
ful look.    Adelle  liked  the  face,  and  said  so. 

'^  You  think  it  the  perfection  of  manly  beauty,  of  course, 
Zoe,"  she  said,  playfully  touching  the  girl's  cheek,  as  she 
handed  back  the  picture. 

**No,  I  do  not.  I  don't  think  it  is  manly  enough.  I 
like  a  strong,  masterful  face,  even  if  it  is  a  bit  rugged. 
Dell,  there  is  no  harm  in  just  admiring  a  face,  and  I  own 
I  like  Captain  Witchell's — just  the  face,  mind  you." 

"Don't  speak  of  him.  Oh  !  how  sorry  I  am  that  we 
got  under  any  obligation  to  him." 

"I  don't  think  he  will  presume  upon  it — after  the  way 
we  received  it,  Dell.     You  were  very  cold.'* 

"He  must  have  thought  me  dreadfully  mean  and  un- 
grateful," the  girl  said,  with  a  sudden  rush  of  color  to  her 
forehead.  "But  it  does  not  matter  what  he  thinks,"  she 
added  quickly,  undoing  her  hair,  and  letting  its  dark  waves 
drop  down  upon  her  shoulders,  saying,  as  she  threaded  its 
mass  with  her  fingers,  "  I  wish  our  land  could  be  rid  of 
these  aliens.  I  am  afraid  they  will  cause  us  terrible  trouble 
yet.  I  shall  not  sleep  for  thinking  of  Derrick  to-night, 
and  fearing  he  will  commit  some  rash  act  that  will  cost 
him  his  life." 

She  knew  that  Lanier  was  with  her  brother,  but  she  did 
not  speak  of  this. 


2i  WILD    WORK. 


CHAPTER   II. 


OxE  who  had  only  seen  Floyd  Reese  in  the  presence  of 
others,  her  face  carefully  guarded  in  its  expression,  would 
hardly  have  recognized  her  when  she  sat  alone,  as  to-night, 
her  brow  bent,  her  mouth  drooping,  her  eyes  full  of  gloomy 
thought. 

*^No  use  to  dwell  upon  that  now,"  she  said,  rousing 
herself  at  1  ength.  Then  standing  up,  and  clinching  one 
of  her  hands,  *^But  I  must  make  a  bold  stroke  somehow. 
I  won't  vegetate  here  any  longer ;  I  can't  stand  it.  Besides, 
there's  a  storm  brewing.  Monsieur  is  growing  sentimental ; 
and  Madame  cross  as  a  cat.  Why  will  men  always  fall  in 
love  with  me  ?  " 

Her  eyes  fell  upon  the  looking-glass  over  the  mantel. 

*^If  they  could  see  me  now,"  she  thought,  with  a  little 
bitter  laugh  that  yet  broke  up  the  hard  lines  about  her 
mouth,  and  brought  the  color  into  her  cheeks.  Still  look- 
ing at  herself,  she  thought,  "How  strange  that  my  eyes 
can  be  bright,  my  cheeks  red,  after  what  I  have  gone 
through  !  I  hope  they  will  stay  so  and  tell  no  tales,  for  I 
must  call  up  all  my  assurance  and  strike  out  somewhere. 
I  was  born  to  rule.  I  feel  the  will  and  the  power  struggling 
within  me,  and  yet  here  I  am,  ruling  two  disgusting  brats, 
and  perhaps  their  commonplace  father,  whose  devoted  re- 
gards can  never  serve  me  any  further  than  to  keep  me  in 
bread  and  clothes  until  his  jealous  wife  objects.  I  must 
fly  for  higher  game.  If  I  could  attach  myself  to  this  bold 
hawk  that  is  preying  to  such  good  purpose  on  my  chicken- 
hearted  states-peojDle  !  Captain  Witchell,  if  I  could  win 
your  confidence,  share  your  schemes,  help  you  to  outwit 
men,  and  rise  with  you  to  power  and  riches,  it  would  be  all 
my  ambition  would  crave.      It  would  fill  my  heart,  too — 


WILD    WORK  25 

better  tlian  love  can  fill  it.  Love  !  Faugh  !  I  have  done 
with  love,  or  I  ought  to  have  done  with  it.  It  has  been 
my  bane  :  if  I  touch  it  again,  it  will  be  to  make  it  my  slave 
— a  stepping-stone  to  power  of  some  kind." 

Still  with  her  eyes  on  the  glass,  she  smiled  slowly. 

"  How  my  eyes  shine  just  now  ! "  she  thought.  *^Is  it 
prophetic  of  some  lucky  fortune  ?  This  is  one  of  my  beauty- 
moments.     I  am  only  pretty  by  flashes." 

A  sudden  barking  of  dogs  outside,  followed  by  the  sound 
of  horses  in  a  canter,  caused  her  to  start  from  her  seat  and 
approach  the  window.  Coming  along  the  road  that  ran 
just  outside  the  fence  were  three  or  four  mounted  men, 
plainly  to  be  seen  in  the  moonlight.  They  slackened  their 
pace  as  they  came  near  the  house ;  a  window  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  voice  of  Vincent  was  heard  calling  out,  but 
in  suppressed  tones,  as  though  afraid  of  waking  others  : 

**  Derrick  Holman,  are  you  there  ?  Open  the  gate  and 
ride  in  here  for  a  moment." 

The  foremost  rider  wheeled  his  horse,  unlatched  the  gate, 
and  rode  into  the  yard  and  up  to  the  window  alongside 
the  tall  myrtle  bush,  whose  polished  leaves  glistened  in  the 
moonlight.     Holding  out  his  hand,  he  said : 

^^  How  are  you.  Cousin  Vincent  ?  Father  is  here,  isn't 
he?" 

'^  Yes,  he  stopped  o2  the  boat  to  recruit  a  little.  He 
had  a  sharp  attack  of  cholera-morbus  coming  up,  and  it  left 
him  too  weak  to  bear  jolting  across  the  country  to  Malta 
over  your  rough  hill-roads.  He  heard  to-night  of  your  be- 
ing here,  and  on  what  errand,  and  was  very  anxious  about  it. 
He  sent  a  man — Davies — you  may  know  him,  as  he  comes 
from  your  neighborhood — with  a  message  to  you.  Did  you 
see  Davies  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  sent  back  word  to  the  old  man  that  he 
needn't  have  alarmed  himself." 


26  TF/Zi>    WORK. 

"  Was  anything  done  ?  " 

"  No,"  laughed  the  other — a  forced,  self-mocking  laugh. 
''  The  adventure  was  a  farce  from  beginning  to  end.  In 
the  first  place,  Witchell  rode  down  here  by  himself,  instead 
of  with  the  nigger  body-guard  or  the  posse  of  white  scala- 
wags that  we  expected  he  would  take  with  him.  -We  were 
out  in  the  woods,  two  or  three  miles  from  Malta,  on  the 
watch  out  for  him  when  he  passed,  and  we  saw  it  wouldn't 
do.  'Twould  have  been  fun  to  scare  the  lot,  but  we  couldn't 
fall  on  one  man  riding  peaceably  along — though  he  was  a 
rascally  carpet-bagger.  We  rode  on  after  him,  thinking  to 
break  up  the  meeting  anyhow.  We  thought  to  get  some  of 
the  boys  at  Cohatchie  to  join  us,  but  they  fought  shy  when 
we  hinted  our  business.  I  believe  you  folks  down  this  way 
think  every  Yankee  usurper — Witchell  especially — is  a  kind 
of  fate  or  providence  that  it's  no  use  kicking  against.  Well, 
we  came  on  ourselves  ;  crossed  over  and  went  'round  by  the 
swampy  road  back  of  the  fields  to  the  place  of  meeting. 
There,  again,  we  found  things  not  as  we  had  counted  on. 
Instead  of  closed  doors  and  a  nigger  guard,  the  door  was 
open  and  we  were  invited  to  come  in  and  take  seats.  We 
marched  into  the  aisle  and  stood  there  listening  to  what 
Witchell  was  saying.  He  was  making  a  speech  ;  he  turned 
and  looked  at  us — he  knew  me,  for  I'd  been  in  his  way  a 
time  or  two  before,  and  I  was  at  the  head  of  the  fellows 
who  warned  him,  after  he  made  himself  judge,  that  he 
needn't  try  to  hold  court.  But  he  made  no  sign,  and  kept 
on  with  his  speech.  It  was  for  the  negro,  of  course,  but  in 
a  kind  of  general  way.  There  was  nothing  in  it  to  give  a 
handle  to  get  after  him.  The  house  was  pretty  full — ^black, 
with  a  sprinkling  of  white  oflice-hankerers,  and  among 
them  that  arch  rogue  Yent,  that's  hectoring  over  every- 
thing down  here,  as  he  tried  to  do  with  us.  He  was  sitting 
there,  pompous  as  a  king  among  his  nigger  worshipers. 


WILD    WORK.  27 

My  hands  itched  to  get  hold  of  him,  but  I  saw  there  was  no 
chance  for  that.  There  were  enough  of  them  there  to  gob- 
ble up  our  little  handful.  I  thought  best  to  get  out  of  the 
den  at  once,  but  Lanier,  who  had  been  drinking  pretty 
freely,  gave  the  lie  to  something  Witchell  said.  Witchell 
turned  and  flashed  his  eyes  at  us.  *If  you  interfere  here,' 
he  said,  low  (we  were  standing  close  to  him),  I  will  order 
your  arrest.  You  had  best  go  before  there  is  trouble.'  La- 
nier struck  out  at  him  with  his  knife  ;  Witchell  caught  his 
wrist  and  held  it.  '  Let  him  loose  ! '  I  cried  out,  and  laid 
my  hand  on  my  pistol.  Witchell  said  nothing,  but  that 
coward  bully  Yent  bellowed  out :  ^  Pitch  into  'em,  drive 
'em  out  boys  ; '  and  the  niggers  came  tumbling  over  the 
benches  like  a  black  hurricane.  We  stood  a  fair  chance  of 
being  torn  to  pieces.  Witchell  ordered  them  back,  and, 
when  they  wouldn't  mind,  he  drew  a  revolver,  cocked  it, 
and  held  it  out,  declaring  that  he  would  shoot  the  first  one 
that  tried  to  pass  him.  You  ought  to  have  seen  Yent  fall 
back.  I  said  to  the  boys,  ^  This  is  no  place  for  white  men  ; 
let's  go ' ;  and  we  went." 

**  So  Witchell  really  kept  down  a  disturbance  ;  saved 
your  lives,  perhaps  ?  " 

'*  Ko  thanks  to  any  good  feeling  on  his  part.  He  does 
anything  for  policy.  He  looks  ahead.  He  has  more  of  the 
fox  than  the  woK  in  him.  I  hear  he  is  coming  to  cast  his 
lot  here  with  you  on  the  river  ;  I  don't  congratulate  you. 
He'll  make  his  jack  out  of  you,  you'll  find  to  your  sorrow." 

"  Won't  you  come  in  and  stay  all  night,  and  see  your 
father  and  sister  ?  " 

"No,  I  thank  you.  We  are  going  to  cross  to-night. 
The  boys  swear  the  game  isn't  done  yet.  Witchell  is  to 
have  a  nigger  guard  to-morrow  ;  it  will  be  good  sport  to 
give  them  a  run  and  scare,  perhaps  something  else.  Sis,  is 
that  you  standing  there  on  the  piazza,  looking  like  a  ghost 


28  WILD    WORK. 

in  the  moonshine  ?  Come  and  kiss  me.  Don't  you  begin 
to  scold.  If  you  had  been  at  home,  I  would  have  been 
there  too.  Why  did  you  stay  away  so  long  ?  You  might 
have  known  I'd  get  demoralized." 

He  said  the  last  words,  bending  down  to  kiss  his  sister, 
his  arm  about  her  neck  as  she  stood  beside  his  horse.  She 
had  stepped  down  from  the  piazza  and  stood  with  her  white 
dressing-gown  wrapped  around  her  and  her  dark  hair  loose 
on  her  shoulders. 

"I  was  too  uneasy  to  sleep,"  she  said;  ^'1  heard  your 
voice,  and  crept  down  stairs  to  see  you  and  know  that  you 
were  safe.  Father  was  anxious  ;  he  walked  about  the  room 
a  long  time  after  he  retired,  but  I  believe  he  is  asleep  now. 
Will  you  come  in  and  see  him  ?  " 

**  No  ;  I  have  no  time  ;  they  are  waiting  for  me  ;  La- 
nier is  among  them  ;  he  has  seen  you,  and  is  riding  in." 

**  Then  I  will  go ;  I  do  not  want  to  see  him.  Good- 
bye," Adelle  said  hastily. 

"  No,"  her  brother  answered,  catching  her  hands.  *^  You 
must  not  go  now.  He  will  think  you  are  running  away 
from  him,  and  be  mad  with  you.  You  know  how  quick  he 
is.     Besides,  he  is  a  little — excited  to-night. " 

**  He  has  been  drinking — that  is  nothing  very  unusual," 
said  Adelle  in  disgust.  The  slender  young  man  rode  up  to 
her  side  and  greeted  her  with  eager  tenderness,  grasping  in 
a  tight,  nervous  clasp  the  hand  she  reluctantly  extended. 

"You  are  well,"  he  said,  bending  down  and  fastening 
his  black,  burning  eyes  on  her  fair  face,  in  its  frame  of 
loose,  soft  hair.  **  You  are  enjoying  your  visit.  We  heard 
of  you  ;  Derrick,  did  you  tell  her  what  we  heard  to-night  ?  " 

*^  No  ;  I  never  thought  of  it.  Besides,  I  did  not  believe 
it.  Adelle,  a  negro  told  us  that  you  came  across  the  river 
in  a  skifE  with  Witchell.     It  was  not  so,  of  course." 

"Yes,  it  was  !  "  the  girl  said,  faltering  and  feeling  her 


WILD    WORK.  29 

cheeks  flame.  "  It  was  an  accident.  The  flat  we  were  in 
was  run  over  and  sunk  by  the  Monsoon.  He  came  up  in 
the  skiff  just  in  time  to  rescue  us." 

*^  I  had  almost  rather  you  had  drowned,"  muttered  her 
brother,  with  an  oath." 

''  Oh,  Derrick  !  " 

^^No,  I  don't  mean  that.  Buir  it  was  unfortunate. 
Howeyer,  you  need  not  recognize  him  afterward.  You 
thanked  him,  and  that  was  an  end  of  it.  Yes,  I  am  com- 
ing this  moment,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  an  impatient  call 
from  his  comrades  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  "  Good- 
bye, Sis  ;  I  will  send  the  carriage  for  you  and  father  to-mor- 
row.    Come,  Lanier ! " 

Adelle's  dark  lover  snatched  her  hand  and  carried  it  to 
his  hot  lips.  The  kiss  seemed  to  burn  there  long  after  he 
rode  away,  and  the  small  cavalcade  had  disappeared  up  the 
moonlit  road  that  followed  the  river's  windings.  She  pulled 
a  catalpa  leaf,  wet  with  dew,  and  rubbed  the  place  on  her 
hand  where  his  lips,  feverish  vrith  liquor  and  the  passion  of 
his  fiery  heart,  had  pressed  the  kiss. 

"  Somehow,  I  shrink  from  him  more  than  ever,"  she 
thought,  in  some  distress.  *^He  is  leading  Derrick  into  all 
this.  Oh  !  how  I  wish  I  had  begged  them  not  to  do  any- 
thing to  Captain  Witchell  to-morrow.  I  meant  to  have 
done  it.  He  might  not  interfere  as  he  did  to-night.  That 
ivas  magnanimous,  let  them  say  of  him  what  they  will. 
But  then,  as  Derrick  says,  it  was  done  through  policy.  Of 
course,  a  gi-asping,  unscrupulous  man  like  him  can  have 
no  real  nobleness  of  character." 

Yet  still,  to  her  own  vexation,  the  thought  of  him,  the 
image  of  his  proud  face,  and  the  half -sneering,  half  melan- 
choly smile  that  curved  his  lips  when  she  shrank  from  him, 
recurred  to  her  as  she  lay  watchful  beside  her  sleeping 
friend. 


30  TTYZZ>    WORK. 

Another  was  wakeful  with  thoughts  of  Captain  Witchell 
and  of  the  conyersation  she  had  overheard  between  Der- 
rick Holman  and  his  cousin.  Floyd  made  a  resolye  be- 
fore she  slept ;  and,  with  her,  to  plan  impulsively  and  to 
execute  boldly  were  characteristic. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Early  next  morning  Floyd  Reese  came  out  of  the 
house  and  took  her  way  to  the  stable.  Leading  out  Fleta, 
she  took  down  bridle  and  saddle  from  the  pegs  where  they 
hung  and  put  them  on  the  mare.  Fleta  was  hers — her  only 
possession.  The  mare's  fleet  limbs  had  saved  her  once  in  a 
desperate  race  for  life,  with  a  mob  following  like  famished 
wolves  behind.  Floyd  would  not  part  with  her,  she  said, 
as  long  as  she  could  help  it.  A  good  price  had  been  offered 
for  her,  but  Floyd  refused  it.  ^^I^ot  till  I  need  bread ; 
even  then  I  will  hesitate,  and  starve  a  little  first,  so  long  as 
the  grass  will  keep  her  from  famishing. " 

Vincent  had  the  use  of  the  mare  now  for  her  keep, 
but  she  was  seldom  ridden  by  any  but  Floyd,  and  her  sleek 
coat  and  bright  eye  testified  to  greater  care  than  is  usual  in 
Western  stables.  Floyd  caressed  her  pretty  neck  a  moment 
before  she  mounted  to  a  seat  in  the  saddle.  She  rode  away 
just  as  the  master  of  the  house  came  out  upon  the  piazza. 
Seeing  her,  he  called  to  her  and  came  eagerly  toward  her, 
but  she  only  nodded  her  plumed  head  to  him  and  waved 
her  hand  as  she  cantered  swiftly  up  the  road.  She  had  no 
idea  of  being  hindered  in  her  purpose  this  morning  by  lis- 
tening to  the  flattering  speeches  of  a  man  whose  admiration 
could  foe  of  no  use  to  her — no  help  in  getting  her  out  of 


WILD    WORK  31 

the  dull  routine  of  life  wliich  lier  restless,  ambitious  soul 
hated. 

Briskly  she  rode  through  the  broad  fields  bordering  on 
the  river,  the  murky  stream  rolling  between  its  steep  banks 
on  one  side,  the  long  rows  of  flourishing  corn  or  cotton 
upon  the  other ;  fields  all  the  way,  with  dividing  fences, 
whose  big  gates  she  had  learned  to  open.  Looking  back, 
she  saw  galloping  toward  her  a  lank  negro  astride  a  dimin- 
utive white  mule. 

"  He  probably  went  to  the  meeting  last  night,  and  can 
tell  what  I  want  to  know,"  thought  Floyd,  and  purposely 
drojoped  her  riding-whip. 

*'Pick  it  up  for  me,  please,"  she  said  to  the  negro,  who 
tumbled  down,  delighted  to  serve  a  handsome  and  stylish 
lady.  As  he  handed  it  to  her,  she  further  pleased  him  by 
a  smile  and  a  gracious  ^*  Thank  you." 

"  You  are  out  early  this  morning  ;  you  are  not  just  now 
coming  from  the  Loyal  League  meeting,  are  you  ?  " 

''No,  ma'am." 

''  Was  it  a  good  meeting  ?" 

The  negro  hesitated,  and  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  Any 
allusion  by  a  white  Southerner  to  the  negro's  newly-ac- 
quired political  relations  disturbed  the  latter's  equanimity, 
and  made  him  draw  into  his  shell  of  suspicion.  But  Eloyd's 
smile  was  irresistible,  and  suspicion  was  disarmed. 

"It  was  a  mighty  fine  meetin',  ma'am.  Captain  Wit- 
chell  and  Mr.  Yent  spoke  beautiful." 

"I  am  glad  of  it.  We  heard  that  a  foolish  attempt  to 
break  up  the  meeting  was  going  to  be  made.  I  hope  Cap- 
tain Witchell  will  not  go  back  alone.     It  would  be  unsafe." 

"He  oughtn't  to,  ma'am,  that's  a  fac',  and  some  of  our 
people  made  up  to  guard  him,  but  he  sent  word  he  didn't 
need  it,  and  wouldn't  'cept  it  no  how." 

"And  so  he  has  gone  ?" 


32  WILD    WORK. 

"Not  yit.  He's  goin'  to  cross  up  hese  at  Tenk's 
landin'.  De  flat's  outer  fix  at  Mr.  Brown's,  where  he 
stayed  las'  night." 

**He  stayed  at  Mr.  Brown's,  the  store-keej^er's,  last 
night?" 

"Yes  ma'ani,  he  did  that.  Mr.  Brown  writ  a  note  and 
specially  axed  him.  Mr.  Brown  knows  which  side  his 
bread's  buttered  on.  He's  goin'  to  make  fair  wedder  wid 
de  Cap'n,  and  all  de  white  uns  better  do  the  same.  Cap'n 
Witchell  mout  help  dem,  same  as  he  do  w^e,  and  he's  mighty 
good  at  helpin'." 

"  Mighty  good  at  helping  himself,"  Floyd  thought,  as, 
having  gained  all  the  information  she  wanted,  she  began 
to  hum  a  tune  and  cut  with  her  whip  at  the  young  corn 
blades,  while  the  negro  lifted  his  battered  hat,  said  '  Good- 
morning,'  and  rode  on  ahead. 

Half  an  hour  more  brought  Floyd  to  the  crossing 
spoken  of,  and,  riding  down  into  the  strip  of  woods  that 
here  fringed  the  river,  she  dismounted,  tied  her  mare  to  a 
limb,  and,  leaning  against  an  old  ash-tree  near  the  path  that 
led  to  the  river,  she  waited  for  Caj)tain  Witchell  to  appear. 

The  birds  twittered  in  the  young  leaves  overhead,  the 
yellow  butterflies  drifted  over  the  blossomed  herbs  and  dewy 
berry-vines  at  her  feet,  the  river  flowed  below  with  a  cool 
gurgle,  but  Floyd's  thoughts  were  not  in  tune  with  these. 
They  were  confused  and  unquiet.  The  purpose  she  had  in 
view  seemed  more  and  more  absurd  in  her  eyes,  more  des- 
perate and  unlikely  to  result  in  anything  but  failure.  Still 
there  was  a  chance  of  success.  "  Nothing  risk,  nothing 
get,"  Floyd  said  to  herself.  "  He  must  remember  me  with 
some  sort  of  interest.  He  can  hardly  have  forgotten  my 
face — ghastly  as  it  was  with  terror,  and  covered  with  dust 
from  that  awful  race.  Those  wretches  must  have  told  him 
everything,  but  he  may  not  have  believed  them ;  he  may 


WILD   WORK.  33 

have  credited*  my  story  and  pitied  me.  He  was  so  good 
afterward.  It  is  natural  to  think  kindly  of  one  we  have 
helped,  more  than  of  one  who  has  helped  us  ;  and,  if  I  can 
rekindle  his  interest  and  keep  it  alive,  something  may  come 
of  it." 

While  such  thoughts  coursed  through  her  brain,  she 
heard  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  on  the  upper  bank. 

*'It  is  he  ;  and,  thank  fate,  alone,"  she  said,  looking  up. 
Leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle.  Captain  Witchell  was 
descending  the  path  to  the  flat.  His  head  was  bent  in 
thought ;  he  did  not  see  her  until  she  made  a  step  forward. 
He  stopped ;  a  surprised  look  came  into  his  face.  Then  he 
lifted  his  hat  courteously,  and  was  passing  on,  when  she 
detained  him  by  a  gesture. 

'^  Captain  Witchell,"  she  said,  her  hand  held  out,  her 
eyes  full  of  eager  light.  He  bowed  and  took  her  hand,  but 
his  look  was  still  puzzled  and  unrecognizing. 

**  You  do  not  know  me.  You  have  forgotten  me."  Her 
voice  had  a  pained  thrill,  and  the  light  died  in  her  eyes. 

**I  know  you  now.  Eemember,  we  only  met  once.  I 
hope  you  have  had  no  ill  fortune  since  that  night." 

''  When  I  was  so  sorely  beset,  and  you  saved  me  ?  No  ; 
my  enemies  have  not  found  me  out.  They  really  thought 
me  drowned.  Thanks  to  you.  I  have  not  forgotten  you. 
I  have  thought  of  you  daily,  hourly.  But  for  you,  I  might 
now  be  in  the  cell  of  a  mad-house,  or  in  my  grave,  more 
likely  ;  for  that  man — my  guardian — has  no  conscience." 

A  curious  look  passed  over  Captain  Witchell's  face. 
Floyd's  quick  eye  caught  the  incredulous,  half -sneering  ex- 
pression, and  her  hopes  sank.  The  Texans  had  told  him, 
then,  she  thought,  and  he  believed  their  story  and  not  hers. 

"I  did  you  a  service  at  no  cost  to  myself,"  he  said; 
"you  owe  me  no  thanks." 

*'  Thanks  are  poor  payment  for  what  you  did  for  me. 


34  WILD    WORK. 

If  I  could  only  do  something  to  prove  my  gi-»titudc.  If  I 
were  a  man,  I  would  give  you  my  life-service  ;  I  would  fol- 
low your  fortunes,  watch  out  for  the  dangers  you  despise, 
the  enemies  you  are  too  busy  to  guard  against.  You  need 
such  a  friend. " 

'•Do  you  think  so?" 

'^I  know  it.  I  know  what  you  aim  at.  I  know  what 
your  ambition  would  compass  ;  and  I  know  the  difficulties, 
the  dangers  in  the  way.  You  have  a  strong  will,  and  cir- 
cumstances give  you  a  power  outside  your  own  strength ; 
but  other  circumstances  are  working  against  you — growing 
stronger  every  day.  The  people  have  been  paralyzed,  but 
they  are  recovering ;  opposition  is  waking  up ;  hatred  is 
growing  active  ;  the  people  are  getting  furious  at  seeing  the 
negro  used  as  a  tool  to  keep  them  down,  and  at  seeing  all 
the  money  and  privileges  of  the  country  going  into  the 
hands  of  men  that  are  not  of  them — men  like  you.  They 
hold  themselves  imposed  upon,  over-taxed,  s^vindled ;  and 
they  will  not  endure  it  long — not  here,  at  least,  in  this 
section  of  the  country,  where  law  has  never  pressed  hard, 
and  restraints  of  any  kind  have  been  few.  Already  there 
have  been  secret  meetings — " 

"At  which  you  were  the  chief  spokesman  ?"  Witchell 
asked,  with  quiet  sarcasm.  "Judging  from  the  speech  you 
have  just  made,  you  might  have  been  the  leading  spirit — 
the  exponent  of  the  people's  rights." 

"  No,  I  have  no  leaning  that  way.  I  am  not  patriotic. 
I  believe  that  might  makes  right.  I  would  do  as  you  are 
doing,  if  I  had  the  power.  I  would  make  the  most  of  my 
opportunities — take  all  I  could  get — knowing  that  money 
brings  power.  I  have  spoken  of  the  opposition  against 
you  because  I  don't  think  you  feel  it  enough ;  you  don't 
see  the  difficulties  you  must  meet.  You  think  you  have 
everything  in  your  own  hands ;  your  mind  is  full  of  your 


WILD    WOEK  35 

own  schemes ;  -"you  do  not  see  what  pitfalls  are  being  dug 
in  your  path.  You  think  too  little  of  personal  danger. 
For  instance,  you  are  going  to  travel  alone  to-day,  and 
there  is  a  party  of  men  following  you  to  do  you  harm." 

'^Harm!  what!  that  handful  of  harum-scarum  boys, 
who  don't  know  what  they  want  ?  I  have  no  fear  they 
will  do  anything — ^not  the  least.  Is  it  only  to  tell  about 
them  you  have  stopped  me  ?" 

**No,  there  may  be  nothing  to  fear  from  them,  as  you 
say,  but  such  demonstrations  are  forerunners  of  something 
more  serious.  They  betoken  the  opposition  that  is  gather- 
ing— that  may  cut  short  your  career  before  you  get  the 
fortune  and  the  power  you  aim  at.  You  have  need  to 
be  watchful,  and  to  have  devoted  friends ;  and  you  stand 
alone." 

"You  mistake ;  I  have  friends." 

"You  have  a  few  men  whom  you  have  yourself  put  in 
office  and  made  all  they  are.  They  will  look  out  for  them- 
selves, serve  themselves,  and  you,  perhaps,  as  long  as  they 
can  make  it  pay  well — no  longer.  Larger  pay  on  the  other 
side  would  make  them  desert  and  betray  you.  You  need 
one  about  you  devoted  to  your  interests,  heart  and  soul, 
capable  of  sympathizing  in  your  plans,  of  encouraging,  of 
inspiring  them  ;  of  being  watchful  and  argus-eyed  in  your 
behalf,  looking  out  for  possible  small  dangers  and  plots  and 
treacheries,  while  you  are  busy  with  your  schemes." 

He  looked  at  her  with  keen,  curious  inquiry.  She  was 
beautiful,  with  that  heightened  color,  that  lifted  eye,  stand- 
ing under  the  old  oak-tree  with  the  shadows  and  sifted  sun- 
beams quivering  over  her.  The  audacity  of  the  venture 
she  was  making  gave  her  an  eager,  vivid  grace. 

"It  is  hardly  possible  to  find  a  man  so  devoted,"  he  an- 
swered, at  last. 

"But  a  woman  !     Only  a  woman  can  be  so  unselfishly 


36  WILD    WORK. 

devoted  to  a  man,  can  so  watcli  over  his  interests,  enter 
into  his  plans,  scent  danger  with  woman's  keen  instinct, 
and  help  guard  against  it  with  woman's  tact  and  finesse." 

"  Where  will  you  find  such  a  woman  ?  '*  he  asked,  curi- 
osity conquering  his  impatience  to  be  gone. 

'^I  could  be  such  a  one — to  you  ! "  she  said,  softly.  Her 
voice  faltered,  blushes  dyed  her  face,  for  womanly  shame 
was  not  dead  in  her,  and  the  hand  she  laid  on  his  arm,  the 
look  she  raised  to  him,  was  in  deprecation  as  well  as  appeal. 

He,  too,  reddened  with  embarrassment  and  surprise, 
perhaps  with  passing  gratification,  for  the  woman  was  beau- 
tiful, and  her  words  and  looks  were  full  of  intoxicating 
flattery. 

*'  What  can  you  mean  ?"  he  half  stammered. 

"  That  I  am  as  ambitious  as  you  are — that  I  too  have  a 
genius  for  ruling  men  and  daring  fortune  by  bold  measures 
— only,  unfortunately,  I  am  a  woman.  I  can  act  only 
through  some  man.  I  understand  your  aims  ;  I  appreciate 
your  powers ;  I  see  tlie  dijBQculties  in  your  way ;  I  would 
help  you,  if  I  might ;  I  would  devote  myself  to  that  pur- 
pose ;  I  would  be  eye,  and  ear,  and  hand  to  you." 

Her  earnestness  confused  him.  He  tried  to  put  her 
offer  in  the  light  of  a  jest. 

'^  The  days  of  page  and  squire  are  over,"  he  said.  *^  You 
don't  mean  to  make  me  out  a  knight,  and  put  on  male 
clothes,  and  ride  by  my  side  as  my  armor-bearer  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  infinitely  better  than  dragging  out  the 
days  in  woman's  drudgery — sewing  seams,  teaching  brats 
to  spell,"  she  said,  bitterly.  ''No,  I  don't  care  for  the 
male  clothes.  I  would  not  need  to  lay  aside  my  woman's 
dress  and  nature  to  be  all  I  have  said  to  you — devoted  friend, 
helper — "  ;  if  wife  was  the  word  she  tried  to  speak,  it  died 
on  her  lips.  He  was  silent,  and  she  went  on  hurriedly, 
dropping  her  eyes  under  his  searching  look. 


WILD    WORK.  37 

''You  don't  know  what  I  am,  or  anything  of  my  past ; 
that  matters  little.  It  is  unfair  to  judge  any  human  being 
by  their  past.    As  to  what  I  am,  I  will  prove  that.   Try  me." 

''You  make  a  strange  request,"  he  said,  at  last.  "To 
be  what  you  ask  would  require  that  you  should  be  near  me 
all  the  time,  and  I  have  no  home  for  you.  And,  if  I  had, 
it  would  not  look  right  for  you  to  be  there." 

"  Look  right  ?  I  thought  you  disregarded  looks.  I 
thought  you  defied  these  people." 

"You  thought  wrongly.  I  want  to  conciliate  them, 
and  gain  their  confidence  and  esteem.  I  want  them  to  feel 
that  I  am  one  of  them — that  I  have  their  interests  at  heart, 
as  I  have." 

' '  Very  likely, "  she  retorted,  stung  by  his  coldness.  ' '  All 
tyrants  and  extortionists  have  expressed  the  same  exalted 
sentiments,  from  Napoleon  down — " 

"  To  myself.  Quite  a  descending  scale.  So  be  it.  If 
you  have  done,  I  will  say  good-by.  That  old  darky  yon- 
der has  smoked  his  pipe  out,  sitting  in  the  flat  waiting  for 
me.  I  thank  you  for  the  interest  you  have  expressed  in 
my  welfare,  but  I  think  I  can  manage  to  steer  my  own  boat. 
If  it  goes  to  pieces,  nobody  will  suffer  but  me.  Stay  ;  here 
is  something  of  yours  I  ought  to  restore.  I  picked  this  up 
on  the  river-bank,  where  you  dropped  it,  I  think,  that 
evening.  I  forgot  to  speak  of  it  in  our  hurried  interview 
afterward.  Indeed,  I  was  not  sure  it  was  yours.  I  had 
not  looked  at  it  then.''^ 

If  he  had  been  in  doubt  as  to  whether  the  letter  was 
hers,  he  could  be  so  no  longer.  A  sight  of  her  face  was 
enough.  It  turned  ghastly  in  an  instant.  She  stretched 
out  her  hand  mechanically  for  the  bit  of  crumpled  paper  ; 
her  fingers  closed  convulsively  over  it. 

"You  said  you  had  not  read  it  then!''  she  gasped. 
"You  did  read  it  afterward  ?" 


38  WILD    WORK 

"  I  did,  but  no  one  else  saw  it ;  no  one  else  knows  or 
shall  know  from  me.     Good  morning  !  " 

"  One  moment ! "  she  cried,  in  a  stifled  yoice.  '*  Let  me 
explain  ;  let  me — " 

''  No,"  was  the  cold  answer,  accompanied  by  an  impa- 
tient wave  of  the  hand.  **No  explanation  from  you  is 
needed.  I  have  lost  too  much  time  already."  He  tight- 
ened the  reins  he  had  been  holding.  *'  Come,  Zep,"  he  said 
to  his  horse,  that  had  been  chafing  the  bit  and  pawing  the 
ground  for  tlie  last  five  minutes. 

The  woman  made  a  quick  step  toward  him,  a  malignant, 
snaky  gleam  springing  into  her  eyes. 

"You  prefer  to  believe  the  lies  against  me,"  she  cried. 
*'I  understand  now  why  you  refused  my  friendship.  But 
you  shall  repent  this  ;  I  swear  you  shall.  You  think  I 
have  no  power  ;  you  will  find  your  mistake.  You  think  I 
can  not  injure  you  ;  you  will  find  that  my  hand  shall  stir 
up  a  storm  that  shall  sweep  you  from  this  country  or  into 
your  grave. " 

**  So  this  is  woman's  gratitude,"  he  ejaculated.  Turn- 
ing round  with  a  coolly  sardonic  smile  he  walked  away, 
leading  his  horse. 

But  a  strange,  uneasy  feeling  (prophetic,  though  he 
knew  it  not)  shivered  through  him,  as  he  caught  the  bale- 
ful look  in  her  eyes — the  look  full  of  the  rage  and  hate  of  a 
woman  who  finds  that  she  is  known  at  her  worst ;  who 
feels  she  has  humbled  herself  uselessly  ;  that  her  game  has 
been  seen  through  and  despised  as  more  contemptible  even 
than  it  was,  for  there  might  have  been  some  real  honesty  in 
that  offer  of  devoted  service  to  Captain  Witchell.  The 
woman  had  a  thirst  for  power  and  a  passionate  admiration 
for  any  who  had  won  it.  She  had  a  restless  desire  to  be  or 
do  something  out  of  the  commonplace,  and  she  was  shrewd 
and  daring.     Moreover,  she  had  a  grateful  remembrance  of 


WILD   WORJC  39 

what  Captain  Witcliell  had  done  for  her.  He  might  have 
found  such  a  woman  a  vahiable  ally.  He  would  have  hesi- 
tated before  he  turned  her  into  an  enemy,  had  his  been  a 
nature  to  take  cognizance  of  minor  causes  and  influences. 
But,  preoccupied  with  big  schemes,  he  lost  sight  of  smaller 
policies.  He  had  but  little  hypocrisy  in  his  nature,  and 
but  little  softness  or  flexibilit}^  Having  heard  her  story 
from  the  Texans  who  had  pursued  her  to  the  river's  brink, 
and  having  had  the  story  confirmed  by  that  picked-up  let- 
ter, and  her  looks  at  receiving  it,  he  thought  of  this  beauti- 
ful woman  as  a  sort  of  human  leopard.  He  shook  her  from 
him  as  such,  and  went  on  his  way,  thinking  he  had  done 
with  her  for  ever,  foreseeing  not  that,  with  more  of  the 
wolf  than  the  leopard's  nature,  she  would  track  him  with 
her  revenge.  It  was  not  only  because  he  had  met  her 
overtures  with  scorn  that  she  hated  him,  but  because  he 
knew  her  secret — he  alone.  To  all  others,  the  woman 
Mabel  Waters  was  dead.  "  He  might  not  have  believed 
what  he  heard,  had  he  not  seen  the  note,"  she  thought. 
^'  Why  did  I  not  destroy  it  ?  Because  it  was  poor  Morris's 
last  words,  I  must  thrust  it  in  my  bosom  instead  of  tearing 
it  to  pieces." 

She  crushed  it  in  her  hand  as  she  spoke.  Then  she 
opened  her  fingers  and  looked  down  at  the  bit  of  soiled 
paper,  with  the  blurred  penciled  lines  upon  it.  Her  mood 
changed,  a  shadow  of  remorseful  agony  swept  over  her  face, 
and  she  sank  down  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  and  pressed  her 
hand,  still  holding  the  crushed  letter,  over  her  face. 

If  Captain  Witchell  had  seen  her  then,  he  might  have 
softened  to  her  in  some  degree,  he  might  have  felt  some  of 
that  pity  which  had  made  him  ready  to  help  her  that  August 
day  eight  months  ago,  when,  preparing  to  ford  the  shrunken 
river,  he  had  heard  the  gallop  of  a  horse  behind  him,  and 
turning  saw  a  woman,  wild-eyed  and  dust-stained,  urging 


40  WILD    WORE, 

toward  him  a  horse  covered  with  foam,  and  panting  as  if 
its  sides  would  burst. 

'^I  am  pursued,"  she  gasped ;  **men  are  following  me 
to  take  me,  imprison  me,  kill  me.  They  are  close  behind, 
and  my  horse  can  go  no  longer.  Help  me,  hide  me,  for  the 
love  of  God!" 

He  sent  a  hurried  glance  around.  All  about  were  broad 
fields,  not  a  house,  not  a  tree  nearer  than  the  swamp  that 
stretched  back  of  the  fields — nearly  a  mile  away.  Yes, 
there,  just  across  the  river,  were  the  woods — a  belt  of  thick 
growth — and,  farther  back,  the  cabin  of  a  negro. 

"  Your  only  chance  is  to  cross  the  river,"  he  said.  "It 
is  low — can  be  forded  here,  but  the  water  is  deep  in  places  ; 
you  must  seek  the  shallowest.  I  will  go  first ;  it  may  swim 
your  horse,  as  she's  not  tall.     Come — " 

But,  looking  down  at  the  panting,  trembling  mare,  he 
saw  this  would  not  do. 

*^  She  can  never  carry  you  over,"  he  said  ;  "she  will  not 
hold  out." 

"  Then  let  me  drown  ;  it  will  be  better  than  to  be  taken. 
My  God  !  I  hear  them  coming.  They  shall  not  take  me. 
I  will  drown  myself  in  the  river." 

Distractedly  she  tried  to  urge  the  horse  down  the  bank. 

"Stop!"  he  cried,  springing  to  the  ground.  "You 
shall  ride  my  horse.  He  knows  the  ford,  and  will  take  you 
over  safely.     Now  go  at  once." 

He  had  put  her  in  the  saddle  while  he  was  speaking. 

"  Off  with  you,  Zep  ! "  he  cried  to  the  horse.  The  tall, 
strong  animal  took  the  water  with  long  strides,  while  the 
mare,  stooping  her  head,  drank  as  if  famished  with  thirst. 
As  Captain  Witchell  ran  back  up  the  bank,  the  sound  of 
approaching  horses  reached  his  ear.  Far  down  the  lane 
leading  up  from  the  woods  he  saw  four  men  coming  at  a 
slack  gallop,  as  if  their  horses  were  badly  blown.    A  glance 


WILD    WORK.  41 

across  the  river  sliowed  him  the  woman  safely  landed  on 
tlie  opposite  bank,  and  making  for  the  coyert  of  the  woods. 
In  the  same  glance  he  saw,  to  his  surprise,  that  the  mare 
had  followed  her  mistress,  and  was  nearly  half  way  across. 
Already  the  water  was  running  over  her  back. 

'^She  will  have  to  swim,  and  the  current  will  be  too 
strong  for  her,"  he  thought. 

The  next  moment  the  men  had  caught  sight  of  him. 
They  rode  up,  and  the  foremost  one  cried  : 

"  Have  you  seen  a  woman  on  horseback  pass  this  way  ?" 

A  thought  seized  him. 

'^  Yes,"  he  said,  and  waved  his  hand  carelessly  toward 
the  river.  All  eyes  turned  in  that  direction.  There  was 
the  mare  struggling  gallantly  with  the  current. 

''But  there's  nobody  on  her,"  cried  the  man. 

"  Nobody  ?    There  was  a  woman  just  now." 

*'The  current  swept  her  off,  and  she's  drowned,  then. 
There's  nothing  to  be  seen  of  her. " 

The  eyes  of  the  group  were  strained  for  a  breathless  in- 
terval upon  the  river ;  then  the  first  sj)eaker  looked  round 
on  the  others. 

''She's  drowned,  boys,  for  a  fact,"  he  said.  "There's 
an  end  of  her ;  and  he  loosed  his  feet  from  the  stirrup  and 
seated  himself  more  at  ease. 

"No  harm  done,"  muttered  another.  "She's  cheated 
a  rope,  that's  all.     It's  a  better  end  than  she  deserved." 

"Why?"  asked Witchell. 

"Why?  Because  she's  been  the  death  of  as  good  a 
man  as  ever  a  woman  fooled — her  own  husband,  too.  Yes, 
Waters  was  a  good  fellow,  paid  his  debts,  lived  honest,  a 
splendid  shot,  and  free-handed  as  could  be — too  free-handed 
for  his  own  good ;  it  kept  him  poor.  He  wasn't  as  young 
as  a  wife  might  like,  nor  as  neat-looking,  maybe,  but  he  just 
loved  the  ground  that  woman  walked  on.     He  took  her  up 


/2  WILD    WORK. 

out  of  the  dirt,  married  her  when  slie  was  a  slip  of  a  girl, 
and  sent  her  to  school  and  made  a  lady  of  her. 

"A  rich  fellow,  Morris  by  name,  from  Louisiana  here, 
had  refugeed  to  our  jmrts  durin'  the  war,  and  Waters,  who'd 
known  him  where  he  came  from,  give  him  house-room  and 
pasture,  and  let  him  have  provisions.  When  the  fight  was 
over,  he  kept  a  sayin'  he  war  goin'  back  to  his  own  farm  on 
the  Bayou  Teche  or  his  property  in  New  Orleans,  but  he  kept 
puttin'  it  oif,  and  bimeby  we  found  out  why.  He  was  waitin' 
to  take  Waters's  wife  with  him,  and  they  made  up  to  put  the 
husband  out  of  the  way.  The  overseer  was  hired  to  do  the 
job.  Morris  got  Waters  to  go  out  huntin'  one  day,  and  the 
overseer  shot  him,  and  he  and  Morris  buried  him.  It  was 
found  out,  and  the  overseer  got  away,  and  Morris  dodged 
us  for  three  days.  We  caught  him  at  last,  as  he  was  sayin' 
good-by  to  his  lady  at  night,  not  far  from  her  house.  He 
had  hung  around  to  see  her  agin,  and  it  cost  him  his  life. 
He  danced  a  jig  with  no  floor  under  his  feet  next  mornin'. 
He  made  his  will  beforehand,  and  left  her  all  he  had.  Then, 
when  he  was  about  to  be  hung,  he  begged  leave  to  write  a 
note  and  send  it  by  a  woman  that  was  cryin'  and  takin'  on 
over  him.  He  was  jes'  the  kind  o'  chap  that  women  are 
soft  upon.  We  told  him  to  go  ahead,  and  down  he  sat  on  a 
log  with  the  rope  round  his  neck,  and  writ  the  note  and 
gave  it  to  the  woman,  whisperin'  something  in  her  ear.  We 
all  thought  afterward  that  it  was  Waters's  wife  he  sent  it  to, 
and  that  he  wrote  her  word  to  get  away  as  fast  as  she  could, 
as  he  had  heard  us  swearin'  vengeance  on  her  ;  for  when  his 
job  was  done,  and  we  went  for  her,  she  had  gone — run  of! 
on  Morris's  fast  little  mare.  We  gave  chase,  and  would  er 
got  her,  ef  that  ther  accident  hadn't  happened." 

'^It's  well  enough  as  it  is,"  said  another  of  the  men, 
laying  his  leg  comfortably  over  the  saddle-bow,  and  refresh- 
ing himself  with  a  chew  of  tobacco.     ''I'd  hate  mortally 


WILD    WORK.  43 

to  slip  a  noose  round  a  woman's  neck,  deservin'  of  it  as  she 
might  be." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  she  deserved  it  ?  Are  you  sure 
she  knew  they  were  going  to  murder  her  husband  ?  "  asked 
Captain  Witchell. 

' '  Didn't  she  meet  Morris  in  the  woods  after  her  husband 
was  killed  ?  There  was  evidence,  too,  in  plenty  to  show 
she'd  put  'em  up  to  it,  though  Morris  swore  to  the  last  she 
was  innocent  as  the  babe  unborn,  and  took  all  the  blame  on 
himself.  That  counts  for  nothin'.  He  was  so  mad  over 
her,  he'd  done  anything  to  clear  her  skirts." 

**Come,  boys,"  said  another,  "the  game's  over;  let's 
get  down  and  cheer  up,  and  rest  our  horses  a  spell  before 
we  turn  back." 

They  got  down  ;  the  horses  began  to  crop  the  grass ;  the 
men  drew  out  a  ** tickler"  and  *' cheered  up"  all  around, 
proffering  the  cheer  to  the  stranger,  who  declined  it,  left 
them,  and  crossing  the  river  in  a  "dug-out,"  at  a  point 
lower  down,  made  his  way  to  the  cabin  at  the  ford,  being  a 
little  apprehensive  about  his  horse  and  curious  to  know 
what  had  become  of  the  woman.  He  found  his  horse 
quietly  grazing  in  the  little  yard,  and  in  the  rear  of  the 
house,  hid  by  a  clump  of  young  trees,  he  found  the  woman 
he  had  heard  called  Mabel  Waters.  She  had  been  feeding 
the  mare  whose  speed  had  saved  her  life,  and  was  standing 
with  an  arm  about  the  animal's  neck,  and  her  head  drooped 
upon  it.  When  she  looked  up,  he  saw  her  black  eyes  were 
swimming  in  tears. 

"  You  are  safe,"  he  said.  "  They  have  gone  back.  They 
saw  your  horse  swimming  over  without  a  rider,  and  thought 
you  were  drowned." 

She  brought  her  hands  together  convulsively  ;  her  eyes 
glistened. 

"That  is  good!  that  is  good!"  she  said,  under  her 
3 


4:4c  WILD    WORK. 

breath,  and  began  to  thank  him  eagerly  for  his  timely  help. 
Seeing  his  grave  face,  she  broke  o3  with  a  sudden  question : 

"You  saw  them  and  spoke  to  them,  they  told  3^ou — 
what?" 

He  was  silent. 

"It  does  not  matter.  I  do  not  care  to  hear  what  they 
told  you.  It  was  some  lie,  of  course — a  trumped-up  story 
to  excuse  their  pursuit  of  me.  They  were  my  guardian, 
his  brother,  and  his  sons.  They  want  my  money  between 
them.  They  pretended  I  was  mad ;  they  locked  me  up 
and  I  made  my  escape.  I  will  yet  have  my  rights.  In  a 
little  while  I  shaU  be  of  age.  I  will  go  back,  and  they  shall 
suffer  punishment  for  the  wrong  they  have  done  me.  '* 

She  spoke  with  such  clear-toned,  steady-eyed  assurance 
that  he  almost  believed  her  story. 

An  hour  afterward,  when  he  was  pursuing  his  journey 
miles  away,  he  chanced  to  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and 
felt  there  a  folded  paper  he  had  picked  up  from  the  river 
bank  when  he  saw  the  Texans  approaching.  Opening  it, 
he  deciphered  the  agitated,  scarcely-legible  handwriting. 
It  was  the  note  Morris  had  written  to  Mabel  Waters  a  few 
moments  before  he  was  hung.  It  implored  her  to  fly  the 
country  at  once,  to  ride  his  Mexican  mare,  and  get  out  of 
the  State.  It  expressed  undying  love,  and  bade  her  an  im- 
passioned farewell. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Summer  was  abroad  over  the  land — a  summer  unusually 
rich  in  leaf,  and  flower,  and  fruit.  Especially  was  this  the 
case  in  the  swamps  and  the  rich,  level  lands  lying  along  the 
river  and  bayous.    Here  vegetation  ran  riot.    Corn  stood  in 


WILD    WORK.  45 

solid,  dark-green  phalanxes,  the  great  ears  pushing  against 
each  other,  the  thick  stalks  matted  with  conyolyuli  and 
coral-berry  yines.  Cotton,  oyertopping  the  tallest  man, 
interlocked  its  heayy-bolled  branches  across  rows ;  weeds 
sprang  up  thick  and  rank  eyerywhere ;  trumpet-yines  and 
poison-oak  embowered  eyery  stump  and  tree,  and  grass  and 
wild  cloyer  and  parsley  spread  a  matted  carpet  oyer  the 
ground. 

Yet  the  summer  that  was  so  kind  to  the  plant  world 
was  no  friend  to  man.  The  atmosphere,  so  stimulating  to 
yegetable  forces,  held  germs  and  exhalations  noxious  to  hu- 
man life.  The  season  had  been  unusually  sickly.  Feyers 
had  grown  gradually  more  malignant  as  the  summer  ad- 
yanced,  until  the  deadly  swamp  feyer  made  its  appearance, 
chilling  and  burning  its  yictims  by  turns,  and  tinging  them 
a  saffron  deep  as  that  of  the  helianthus,  whose  bloomy 
mass  burned  like  a  flame  beside  the  bayous  ;  swamp  feyer, 
near  akin  to,  and  often  the  prelude  of  that  yellow  scourge, 
so  much  dreaded  along  the  Western  watercourses. 

This  summer  eyerything  along  the  riyer  was  fayorable 
to  the  propagation  of  the  pestilence  ;  the  atmosphere,  the 
human  system,  deteriorated  by  malaria,  were  ripe  for  it ; 
only  the  seeds  were  wanting.  But  not  long.  In  Septem- 
ber, a  boat,  with  a  yellow- feyer  case  on  board,  stopped  at  a 
near  landing  ;  the  germs  escaped,  fastened  themselyes  upon 
their  human  food,  and  propagated  and  spread  with  terrible 
rapidity.  A  number  of  the  dwellers  upon  the  riyer  and 
the  fertile  swamp  fell  yictims  to  the  scourge,  and  then  the 
planters  and  their  families  made  a  hurried  exodus,  refugee- 
ing  to  the  hills,  carrying  a  portion  of  their  household  effects, 
and  getting  into  outhouses,  or  stretching  tents  along  the 
lakes,  where  the  fish  and  game  were  abundant.  Crops  were 
left  to  the  care  of  the  negro  laborers,  who  seemed  to  enjoy 
an  immunity  from  the  disease  in  its  fatal  form.     Of  the 


46  WILD    WORK 

whites  there  remained  on  the  river  only  a  few  old  veterans, 
who  considered  themselves  fever  proof,  and  some  enthusi- 
astic young  planters,  too  full  of  life  and  youth  to  fear  death, 
and  too  eager  for  big  harvests  and  heavy  money  returns  to 
leave  their  farms  at  this  critical  time,  when  those  indigen- 
ous rebels,  weeds  and  grass,  were  fighting  for  the  mastery 
over  King  Cotton. 

There  was  sickness  on  the  hills  at  the  same  time,  but 
not  of  the  malignant  type  that  raged  in  the  alluvial  regions. 
It  was  severe  enough,  however,  to  occasion  no  little  uneasi- 
ness. It  broke  up,  for  the  time,  the  prosperous  little  school 
in  the  town  of  Malta,  in  which  Adelle  Holman  was  teach- 
er. Very  unexpectedly  to  herself  and  her  friends  had  Miss 
Holman  come  into  this  position.  The  cherished  daughter 
of  the  well-to-do  Mossy  Valley  planter  had  no  need  to  leave 
her  parents  and  her  pretty  home  to  teach  grammar  and 
rhetoric  in  a  country  town.  Adelle  could  hardly  have  ana- 
lyzed the  motives  that  induced  her  to  accept  the  post  urged 
her  by  the  principal  of  the  school,  her  warm  admirer  and 
her  father's  old  friend.  She  knew  that  the  unrest  which 
had  lately  taken  possession  of  her  had  something  to  do  with 
this  desire  for  change  and  for  absorbing  work,  as  had  also 
an  increasing  repugnance  to  the  marriage  her  parents  seemed 
to  expect  and  desire  her  to  make ;  but  the  cause  of  this 
unrest,  and  of  this  dislike  to  a  union  she  had  not  before 
actually  opposed,  she  could  not  herself  understand.  She 
only  knew  that  the  old  home  pleasures  had  grown  tame  and 
wearisome — her  garden,  her  dairy  work,  her  walks  and  rides 
through  the  summer  woods,  her  evening  readings  aloud  to 
the  household,  or  singing  to  her  father  the  old-fashioned 
ballads  he  loved — all  these,  that  had  filled  up  her  young  life 
satisfyingly  enough  before,  failed  to  do  so  now. 

Lanier  found  her  moods  very  puzzling,  but  her  increased 
reserve,  dreamy  indifference,  and  sometimes  haughty  repel- 


WILD    WORK.  47 

lence,  only  served  to  fan  liis  passion  into  more  eager  flame. 
His  farm  joined  her  father's,  and  his  chestnut  stalHon 
prancing  impatiently  under  the  great  oak  in  front  of  the 
Holman  gate  was  an  every-day  sight.  Adelle  had  grown  to 
dread  seeing  that  slim  figure  spring  from  the  saddle  and 
come  hastily  up  the  avenue,  followed  by  two  or  three 
hounds,  the  swarthy  face  lighting  up  as  he  caught  sio-ht  of 
her  sitting  at  her  sewing  in  the  shaded  piazza,  or  at  the 
window  behind  her  geraniums  with  her  pet  orioles  chirping 
in  the  swinging  cage  over  her  head. 

She  always  found  some  household  task  that  called  sud- 
denly for  her  attention  in  time  to  break  up  the  tete-a-tete 
she  hated.  But  even  in  these  self-imposed  tasks  he  would 
insist  upon  helping  her,  following  her  about  the  garden, 
among  the  pea-rows  and  raspberry  vines,  or  in  the  poultry- 
yard  among  the  pigeons  and  banta"ins,  with  the  assurance  of 
an  accepted  suitor.  His  passionate  love  talk  exasperated 
her  sometimes.  She  could  not  respond  to  it,  but  neither 
dared  she  silence  it,  for  she  had  a  reproving  consciousness 
that  she  had  listened  to  and  tacitly  encouraged  it  in  days 
gone  by.  To  her  parents  everything  seemed  to  go  on 
smoothly.  Age  is  seldom  keenly  observant.  Colonel  Hol- 
man thought  this  young  man — the  son  of  an  old  war  com- 
rade— quite  well  suited,  in  spite  of  a  little  wildness  and  a 
rather  fierce  temper,  to  be  the  husband  of  his  beautiful 
daughter,  with  her  fine,  pure,  yet  passionate  nature. 

^^When  are  you  and  Lanier  going  to  make  it  up, 
Dell  ?  "  he  would  ask  her  sometimes.  Her  brother,  in  one 
of  his  last  visits  (he  was  farming  to  himself  this  year  as  an 
experiment)  took  her  to  task. 

**  Seems  to  me  you  are  treating  Lanier  rather  coolly,  of 
late,"  said  the  young  fellow.  ^'  I  don't  know  much  about 
such  matters,  but  I'm  sure  I  would  like  my  betrothed  to  be 
a  little  more  affectionate." 


48  V,'ILD    WORE, 

**I  am  not  his  betrothed.  You  know,  Derrick,  there 
never  was  any  positive  engagement  between  us.'' 

"Wasn't  tliere  ?  Well,  there  was  a  promise  pretty  well 
understood,  if  not  made  in  form  ;  and  I  suppose  you  intend 
to  marry  him  one  day — don't  you  ?  " 

"Never!  That  is,  I  think  not.  I  do  not  believe  I 
can." 

"  Dell,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you've  been  flirting  with 
Lanier  all  this  while  ?  You  can't  deny  you  encouraged 
him." 

"I  am  afraid  I  did — once.  I  really  thought  I  liked 
him  well  enough  to —  But  I  know  my  feelings  better  now. 
I  seem  much  older,  somehow.  Like  all  foolish  girls,  I 
found  it  pleasant  to  be  made  love  to.  I  am  very  sorry. 
I  don't  know  what  to  do  about  it." 

"I  am  sorry,  too.  I  hope  you  will  get  over  this  non- 
sense, and  behave  to  Lanier  as  you  ought  to.  He'll  make 
you  a  devoted  husband,  but  he's  not  a  fellow  to  be  fooled 
with,  I  can  tell  you — gay  and  light  as  he  seems." 

Adelle  felt  sure  of  that.  Lanier  had  a  careless,  pleasant 
way  about  him,  but  she  had  more  than  once  caught  a  flash 
of  those  small,  keen  black  eyes  that  told  her  there  was  a 
lurking  serpent  under  that  surface-deep  bon  liommie.  Ex- 
acting and  fierce  in  his  love,  she  was  sure  he  would  be  jeal- 
ous and  revengeful,  if  he  had  grounds  to  be  so.  Hitherto 
he  had  had  none.  No  other  lover  had  been  bold  enough  to 
contend  against  him  for  the  favor  of  the  Mossy  Valley  belle 
— this  girl,  whose  shy  smile  and  dreamful  eyes  told  of  hidden 
sweetnesses  of  heart  and  soul  that  had  never  yet  been  called 
out. 

"Don't  scold.  Derrick,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm 
around  his  neck,  and  laying  her  cheek  against  his  shoulder. 
"Remember  you  are  going  back  to-morrow,  old  fellow.  I 
do  wish,  though,  you  had  never  taken  that  river  place. 


WILD    WORK.  49 

You  are  looking  thin  and  sallow  already.  Good  crops  won't 
make  up  for  chills  and  fever,  and  nobody  to  nurse  and 
coddle  you  as  I  always  did.  I  know  you  miss  me,  but  not 
as  much  as  I  miss  you.  I  get  quite  cross  and  beside  myself, 
sometimes." 

''You  need  a  change  ;  why  don't  you  pay  that  visit  to 
Birdie  Deal  you  promised  her  ?  I'll  go  through  Malta  and 
take  you  there  to-morrow.  I  want  an  excuse  to  stop  and 
see  Birdie,  anyhow." 

"That  would  be  nice.  And  they  could  spare  me,  now 
that  Aunt  Mitt  is  here  to  help  with  the  housekeeping. 
Malta  is  always  so  pleasant  in  the  spring,  and  so  many  new 
people  have  come  in  since  I  was  there  last  summer." 

Her  cheek  flushed  a  pretty  pink  as  she  spoke.  Perhaps 
the  presence  in  Malta  of  some  one  of  these  "new  people" 
gave  a  special  secret  attraction  to  the  place— an  attraction 
she  would  not  have  dared  to  confess  to  herself,  much  less 
to  that  fond,  but  fierce,  prejudiced  young  fellow  at  her  side. 

The  visit  so  suddenly  planned  was  really  made.  Adelle's 
father,  looking  at  her  keenly,  declared  she  had  been  mopy 
and  drooping  of  late,  and  bade  her  go  and  stay  as  long  as 
she  liked,  so  that  she  brought  back  the  roses  and  bright 
eyes  he  missed,  which  was  self-denying  on  his  part,  seeing 
that  "daughter,"  as  he  loved  to  call  her,  was  the  delight  of 
his  heart. 

^  When  Lanier  came  next  day  he  found  the  sitting-room 
window  unadorned  by  the  pretty  figure  in  cool-tinted  prints, 
whose  little  hand  he  had  been  wont  to  grasp  so  warmly  as 
to  make  the  red  drop  from  her  cheeks  and  a  shiver  run 
through  her  frame.  He  was  very  angry  when  he  found  she 
had  gone,  and,  though  Mamma  Holman  improvised  a  little 
message  of  farewell  from  the  flown  bird,  he  received  it  in 
sullen  silence,  and  mounting  his  horse  galloped  away  in  high 
disgust. 


60  TF/Zi)    WORK. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Notwithstanding  good  Mrs.  Holman's  consoling  as- 
surance to  Lanier  that  Adelle  would  soon  come  home,  the 
weeks  went  by  and  she  did  not  return.  Instead,  came  a 
letter  to  her  parents,  dutifully  asking  their  consent  to  her 
acceptance  of  a  situation  in  the  Malta  Academy,  and  sug- 
gesting so  many  reasons  why  the  place  would  be  pleasant 
and  advantageous  for  her  that  they  plainly  saw  her  heart 
was  set  upon  staying.  The  desired  consent  was  accorded 
in  Squire  Holman's  precise  old-fashioned  hand,  though  he 
could  not  help  intimating  his  surprise  that  she  should  pre- 
fer the  drudgery  and  confinement  of  a  school-room  to  the 
ease  and  liberty  of  her  otvti  home,  the  society  of  her  parents, 
and  the  proximity  of  a  devoted  lover. 

It  was  almost  as  much  to  her  own  surprise  as  to  her  fa- 
ther's that  Adelle  had  been  led  into  accepting  the  situation. 
The  little  lady  who  had  filled  it  for  two  years  was  now  about 
to  be  promoted  to  the  control  of  a  vndower's  household,  and 
good  Dr.  Wheatley — the  school  principal — was  at  a  loss 
how  to  supply  her  place.  He  was  deploring  his  dilemma 
one  evening  at  Mrs.  Deal's  tea-table,  when  Adelle,  who  sat 
opposite,  looked  up  from  her  strawberries  and  cream,  and 
half  playfully  proposed  to  take  the  vacated  place  herself — 
a  proposition  which  was  quickly  taken  up,  and  resulted  in 
her  receiving  next  day  from  the  academy  trustees  a  formal 
offer  of  Miss  Black's  situation  and  salary. 

Adelle  felt  that  in  some  respects  the  place  would  be 
good  for  her.  The  regular  work  was  what  she  needed, 
and,  if  she  was  hearing  parsing  lessons  in  the  little  academy 
under  the  oak-trees,  she  would  not  be  listening  to  Lanier's 
half- whispered  love  speeches,  or  flushing  uncomfortably 
under  his  fixed  gaze  while  she  tried  to  sew. 


WILD    WORK.  51 

She  need  never  see  liim  alone.  When  he  came  to  Malta, 
she  could  easily  persuade  good-natured  Birdie  to  make  a 
third  party  in  the  parlor  and  in  the  walks  which  she  would 
do  her  best  to  avoid.  Placed  under  this  restraint,  the  hot- 
tempered  young  man  would  not  be  apt  to  avail  himself  of 
Mr.  DeaFs  hearty  invitation  to  prolong  his  visits.  Mr. 
Deal  took  quite  a  fancy  to  him.  Lanier  had  the  reputation 
of  being  a  bitter  and  daring  opponent  of  the  new  regime,  and 
the  old  fire-eater,  notwithstanding  his  hospitable  disposi- 
tion, cherished  an  undying  prejudice  against  everybody 
that  had  worn  the  blue  in  the  late  conflict ;  and  more  par- 
ticularly against  those  who,  since  the  war,  had  been  quar- 
tered upon  portions  of  the  conquered  country,  ostensibly  to 
keep  the  peace.  The  presence  in  his  town  of  some  of  these 
ex-militaires,  now  holding  civil  offices  by  appointment  or 
through  negro  votes,  was  an  eyesore  to  the  hearty  old  rebel. 
Especially  was  this  so  in  the  case  of  Witchell,  and  the  old 
gentleman  would  never  believe  otherwise  than  that  the 
Radical  judge's  choosing  to  board  next  door  was  done  as  a 
personal  aggravation  to  him. 

Witchell,  having  sold  his  landed  property  on  Lake  Wis- 
teneau,  and  bought  a  valuable  plantation  in  the  rich  river 
region  which  he  would  come  in  possessionr  of  at  the  end  of 
the  year,  was  now  busy  maturing  large  plans  for  the  future. 
His  first  aim  was  to  have  himself  made  a  State  Senator,  rep- 
resenting three  large  and  important  parishes.  This,  in  the 
existing  condition  of  politics,  where  the  people  had  little  or 
no  voice  in  choosing  their  officials,  could  be  easily  done. 
After  this,  foreseeing  that  the  party  he  belonged  to  would 
not  always  have  such  smooth  sailing  as  now,  and  that  its 
sway  in  the  State  was  destined  to  be  interrupted  and  weak- 
ened by  dissensions  and  discords  among  contending  cliques, 
he  determined  to  make  himself  independent  of  it  by  ac- 
quiring popularity  forcing  the  people  to  respect  his  quali- 


62  WILD   WORK. 

ties  as  a  leader,  while  he  earned  their  good-will  in  more 
personal  ways.  He  would  further  strengthen  himself  by 
gathering  around  him  some  strong  and  daring  spirits,  whom 
he  would  bind  to  him  by  ties  of  gratitude  and  interest. 
By  this  means,  he  aimed  to  make  himself  the  head  of 
a  faction,  wiser,  wilier,  and  more  politic  than  any  of  those 
which  were  now  tacitly  organizing  through  the  State,  so 
that,  when  the  time  came  for  a  change  in  the  chief  State 
officers,  he  might  be  strong  enough  to  seize  the  supreme 
prize — the  chief  Executor's  chair,  now  filled  by  the  adven- 
turer Warmoth,  the  shrewd,  daring,  and  unscrupulous. 

Money,  always  such  a  mighty  lever  to  success,  Witchell 
knew  was  all  important  in  attaining  his  ambitious  ends. 
He  had  already  made  money,  but  he  looked  on  this  as 
merely  the  nucleus  of  the  colossal  fortune  he  saw  oppor- 
tunities to  acquire  in  the  future. 

He  had  an  eye  to  acquiring  money,  as  well  as  to  gaining 
influence  with  the  people,  when  he  determined  on  his 
change  of  location.  The  point  on  Red  River  which  he 
had  fixed  upon  as  his  home  was  full  of  promise.  Not  only 
was  it  in  the  midst  of  a  rich  cotton-growing  section — a  sec- 
tion, too,  where  the  negroes,  who  worshiped  him,  were  nu- 
merous, and  in  many  instances  well-to-do,  but  it  was  near 
the  little  riverside  town  of  Cohatchie,  now  a  mere  handful 
of  houses,  but  destined  to  play  an  important  part  in  Wit- 
chell's  programme.  He  meant  Cohatchie  to  be  the  base  of 
wide-reaching  operations.  He  had  decided  it  should  be 
the  county  site  of  a  new  parish  which  he  would  create. 
The  people  in  this  section  had  long  ago — even  in  the  ante- 
bellum times — eagerly  desired  a  division  in  the  over-large 
parish  of  which  they  occupied  an  extreme  end.  They  had 
never  failed  to  instruct  their  representatives  to  obtain  this 
for  them,  and  had  hitherto  been  disappointed  so  often,  they 
despaired  of  ever  obtaining  their  right.     He  would  gain  it 


WILD   WORK.  53 

for  them,  and  earn  their  gratitude  and  good-will,  while  he 
laid  the  foundation  of  a  fortune  for  himself  in  the  pros- 
perity that  would  attend  the  new  county  site.  He  would 
take  this  under  his  special  charge,  buying  lots  for  a  song, 
selling  them  at  high  figures  to  the  people  who  would  gather 
in  to  the  young  town,  the  public  buildings  of  which  he 
promised  himself  should  be  as  elegant  as  the  gratified  new 
parishioners  would  bear  being  taxed  to  build. 

Such  schemes  of  self-aggrandizement  floated  through  his 
brain,  gathering  the  consistency  and  system  of  an  organ- 
ized plan. 

Adelle  could  see  him  sometimes  thus  occupied  with  his 
ambitious  thoughts  from  the  window  of  her  room,  which 
commanded  a  view  of  his  across  the  paling  and  the  narrow 
strip  of  yard  that  interyened.  His  blinds  were  often  open 
for  the  sake  of  cool  air,  and  she  could  see  him  walking  the 
floor  w^ith  that  firm,  military  stride,  or  seated  at  his  read- 
ing-table, his  head  thrown  back  against  the  high  chair,  his 
eyes  looking  intently  forward,  as  though  at  some  yision  of 
the  To  Be. 

Sometimes  he  had  company.  There  were  two  men  es- 
pecially whom  he  counted  on  to  be  of  use  to  him,  one  from 
his  daring  and  persistence,  the  other  from  his  shrewd  judg- 
ment and  financial  sharpness.  One  was  Morton  Carls,  a 
former  sugar-planter  in  Cuba,  now  a  rabid  oflice-seeker ; 
the  other  was  Devene,  who  had  early  become  a  satellite  of 
Witchell's,  and  owed  to  his  influence  his  seat  in  the  Legis- 
lature as  representative  of  the  parish  in  which  they  lived, 
the  Democratic  member  having  been  ousted  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  might  makes  right.  Devene  had  already  been 
useful  to  his  friend.  The  bill  appropriating  thirty  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  cleaning  out  of  Lake  Wisteneau  had 
been  got  through  the  Legislature  by  the  new  member. 
The  cleaning  out  that  was  done  was  a  sham,  but  the  appro- 


54  WILD    WORK. 

priation  money  which  found  its  way  into  Witclieirs  pocket 
was  a  solid  reality. 

These  two  satellites  were  sometimes  to  be  seen  with  Wit- 
chell  in  his  room.  Even  with  his  friends,  he  did  not  con- 
descend to  familiarity  ;  but,  though  he  kej^t  on  the  mask  of 
reserve  that  prevented  over-intimacy,  and  confided  his  plans 
to  no  one,  he  could  be  genial  and  companionable.  Adelle 
had  glimpses  of  the  three  sitting  at  the  small  table,  across 
which  the  bottle  and  glasses  were  occasionally  pushed 
about,  not  pausing  before  Witchell,  however,  for  drinking 
was  not  one  of  his  vices.  He  was  temperate  almost  to  aus- 
terity in  his  appetites. 

Adelle  saw  little  of  him,  beyond  these  glimpses  caught 
through  half-open  blinds.  Occasionally,  she  had  met  him, 
but  he  volunteered  no  sign  of  recognition ;  and  she,  con- 
fused by  consciousness  of  obligation  to  him,  which  she  had 
ungratefully  received,  felt  her  cheeks  flame  and  her  eyes  in- 
voluntarily avert  themselves  when  they  met. 

Only  once  had  she  spoken  to  him.  She  had  gone  to 
evening  church  service,  escorted  by  a  physician,  who  had 
been  called  off  on  a  professional  errand  before  service  was 
over.  In  a  whisper,  he  excused  himself  to  her,  and  know- 
ing that  Miss  Deal  and  her  father  were  at  church,  she  felt 
no  uneasiness  about  the  way  in  which  she  should  get 
home. 

When  the  benediction  had  been  pronounced,  and  the 
people  were  streaming  out  of  different  doors,  she  stood 
waiting  for  her  friends  to  come  out  with  the  rest.  But  she 
waited  in  vain.  Not  knowing  she  was  alone,  they  had  gone 
out  at  another  door.  The  church  was  empty  before  she 
became  convinced  her  friends  were  gone,  and,  hurrying  out, 
she  found  everybody  walking  away  at  some  little  distance. 
She  stood  annoyed  and  perplexed,  turning  her  head  from 
right  to  left,  in  a  fluttered  way.     Mr.  Deal's  house  was  at 


WILD    WORK.  55 

some  distance  from  the  church,  and  the  social  code  of  Malta 
made  it  a  great  breach  of  propriety  for  a  woman  to  walk 
alone  at  night. 

''Can  I  assist  you?"  asked  a  voice.  A  man's  figure 
stepped  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  church  wall  and  stood 
before  her.  Too  much  confused  to  know  in  the  dim  light 
whether  it  was  an  acquaintance  or  a  stranger,  she  answered 
that  she  was  lost  from  her  party,  and  disliked  to  go  home 
alone.  He  seemed  to  hesitate  after  hearing  her  voice,  but 
the  next  instant  he  proffered  his  escort,  adding,  ''Perhaps 
we  can  overtake  your  friends  before  they  reach  home." 

There  seemed  nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to  accept  his 
attendance,  and  she  walked  on  by  his  side.  They  walked 
so  rapidly  as  soon  to  overtake  the  hindmost  groups,  and 
the  glare  of  a  street  lamp  just  before  her  showed  Adelle 
the  familiar  figures  of  a  gentleman  and  lady,  who  lived  near 
her  boarding-house. 

"It  is  Mr.  Medlock.  I  need  not  trouble  you  any 
longer,  sir.     Thanks  for  your  kindness." 

This  is  what  she  was  going  to  say,  as  she  turned  to  look 
in  her  escort's  face. 

But  that  face  drove  the  words  out  of  her  mind  and  the 
blood  into  her  cheeks.  It  was  Captain  "Witchell.  Instead 
of  saying  what  she  had  intended,  she  stammered  some 
incoherent  words,  and  hurriedly  withdrew  her  hand  from 
his  arm.  His  lip  twitched  ;  he  smiled  in  a  bitter  way,  as 
he  had  done  that  time  she  shrank  from  him  in  the  boat. 

"  You  did  not  know  it  was  I ;  neither  did  I  know  who 
you  were  when  I  offered  to  accompany  you.  I  think  you 
have  no  longer  any  need  of  my  escort ;  you  have  come  up 
with  your  friends.     Good  evening  ! " 

He  turned  off  before  she  could  speak.  Her  first  im- 
pulse was  to  call  him  back.  What  a  lack  of  common  cour- 
tesy lie  must  attribute  to  her  !    But  then,  what  right  had 


56  TT/ZZ)    WOBK. 

he  to  expect  civility  from  her — he,  her  father's  and  her 
country's  enemy  ? 

Yet  she  was  troubled  ;  her  yoice  was  agitated  when,  join- 
ing her  acquaintances,  she  explained  that  she  had  been  left 
in  church  by  her  attendant  and  had  failed  to  get  with  her 
friends. 

**  One  dislikes  to  be  rude  and  ungrateful,  even  to  a 
carpet-bagger,"  she  wrote  to  her  friend  Zoe,  that  night. 
*'Does  it  not  seem  that  Fate  tries  to  throw  Captain  Wit- 
chell  for  ever  in  my  path  ?  Did  I  write  you  that  I  had 
found  out  it  was  he  who  kept  papa's  old  hound  Nero  from 
being  killed  ?  He  had  followed  papa  up  here  when  he  came 
to  see  me,  and  had  got  left.  He  was  disconsolate  because 
of  it,  and  howled  about  the  streets  so  that  the  people 
thought  he  was  mad  and  were  going  to  kill  him,  when  Cap- 
tain "Witchell  interfered  and  took  him  with  him,  fed  him 
and  kept  him  until  he  could  send  him  home  by  a  negro. 
The  negro  would  not  tell  who  it  was  had  cared  for  the  dog, 
but  I  have  since  found  out.  Really,  there  must  be  some 
good  in  the  man.  The  poor  people  around  Lake  Wisteneau 
and  about  here  say  he  is  very  kind  to  them — gives  them 
corn  and  other  provisions — '  robbing  with  one  hand  to  give 
with  the  other,'  papa  says,  like  Robin  Hood  and  Rinaldo 
Rinaldini,  only  our  freebooter  is  a  licensed  one,  and,  with 
his  inflexible  figure  and  sandy  locks  (they  are  almost  red, 
Zoe),  he  looks  more  like  a  Highland  chief  than  an  Italian 
brigand.     And  he  has  the  Scotch  love  of  lucre,  my  dear." 

This  letter  Zoe  got  from  the  Cohatchie  post-office,  as 
she  and  her  brother's  family  were  on  their  way  to  the  hills 
— refugees  from  the  yellow  fever  that  had  now  broken  out 
upon  the  river.  Adelle  was  exceedingly  anxious  about  her 
brother  until  she  had  a  note  from  him,  telling  her  that  he 
was  camped  on  Clear  Lake  with  his  gun  and  dogs  and  a 
half-dozen  young  fellows,  and  might  have  a  fine  time,  if  it 


WILD    WORK.  57 

did  not  hurt  him  so  to  think  of  his  crop  being  left  to  the 
devastation  of  stock  and  negroes,  just  as  the  cotton  was 
bursting  open  and  the  corn  was  getting  ripe  enough  to 
gather. 

She  sent  this  note  to  her  father,  with  a  few  lines  from 
herself,  saying  that  the  school  was  suspended  at  the  end  of 
the  week  because  of  sickness,  and  they  might  look  for  her 
to  come  home  in  a  little  while. 

One  afternoon,  a  few  days  afterward,  she  was  sitting  in 
the  shaded  piazza,  watching  the  clouds  that  piled  themselves 
in  the  sky,  and  noting  the  hot,  hushed  stillness  of  the  hour, 
when  a  negro  rode  up  to  the  gate,  got  off  his  mule,  and, 
coming  up  to  the  paling,  said  : 

"  Step  here  a  minute.  Miss  Dell." 

She  recognized  Jake — an  old  negro  that  had  once  be- 
longed to  her  father,  but,  since  '^freedom  came,"  had  cast 
his  fortunes  on  the  river,  and  was  staying  on  Mr.  Vincent's 
place  when  she  saw  him  last  spring.  The  adventure  of  the 
flat  and  her  rescue  by  Captain  Witchell  came  vividly  to 
mind  as  she  walked  up  to  the  paling,  and  greeted  the  old 
negro  with  her  usual  friendliness. 

**  Do  you  come  from  the  river  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  missy,  but  I  dassent  let  it  be  known.  Dey 
halts  me  ebery where,  an'  ax,  'Ain't  you  come  from  de  yal- 
ler  fever  country  ? '  and  I  swars  I  ain't  been  nigh  de  riber  in 
a  year.  Bound  to  do  it,  or  git  stopped,  and  I  come  on  an 
arrant  of  mussy,  myself.  I  come  to  git  a  doctor  for  de 
sick  ;  dem  our  way  is  done  give  out." 

"Did  you  get  one?" 

**  No,  missy.  I  went  to  two,  and,  when  dey  heard  what 
I  wanted,  dey  jumped  up  from  de  wind  side  o'  me,  an'  say, 
^  Ef  you  don't  git  out'er  dis,  you  raskil,  I'll  sit  de  dogs  on 
you.'  What's  to  be  done  ?  Our  doctor  is  jes'  worn  out  wid 
ridin'  and  tendin',  and  de  fever's  on  de  increase." 


58  WILD    WORK. 

*'  That  is  dreadful !  And  you  black  people  are  the  only- 
ones  to  nurse  the  sick  ?  " 

**  Yes,  missy  ;  but  de  black  folks  gittin'  scurt  deirselves 
now,  sence  Big  Sam  tuck  de  fever  un  died,  atter  waitin'  on 
Captain  Levin  ;  and  now  you  kin  hardly  git  um  to  nuss  de 
sick  or  to  bury  de  dead." 

"  God  help  the  poor  sufferers  !  Why  did  they  not  leave 
the  river  before  it  was  so  bad  ?  I  am  glad  my  brother  got 
away  in  time." 

"When  you  done  hear  las'  from  your  brudder.  Miss 
Dell  ?  "  the  old  negro  asked,  eyeing  her  in  a  peculiar  way. 

"  Only  four  or  five  days  ago  I  had  a  letter  from  him. 
He  is  camped  on  Lake  Clear,  enjoying  the  hunting  and 
fishing,  only  he  says  he  can't  help  being  anxious  about  his 
fine  crop  on  the  river,  and  wanting  to  run  down  and  see 
about  it." 

'^  He  did  run  down." 

"Is  it  possible  he  has  been  so  imprudent  ?  I  hope  he 
did  not  stay  an  hour.     When  did  he  go  back." 

"He  ain't  gone  back,  missy." 

"What!  Is  he  there  yet?  My  God!  Uncle  Jake, 
please  do  ride  back  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  tell  him,  for  my 
sake,  to  come  away  this  moment.     Eide  fast.  Uncle  Jake." 

She  put  her  hand  over  the  paling,  and  laid  it  on  the 
old  negro's  arm  in  entreaty.  He  took  it  in  his  wrinkled 
fingers,  and  looked  at  her  pityingly. 

"De  Lord  help  you.  Miss  Dell,"  he  said,  sadly,  "he 
can't  git  away,  chile.  It  hurts  me  to  tell  you  sich  bad 
news,  but — he's  got  de  fever ;  tuck  it  yesterday,  bad." 

She  turned  ghastly  in  a  second  ;  she  grasped  the  fence 
with  trembling  hands. 

"  Don't  faint,  missy  ;  don't  take  it  to  heart  so.  He's  in 
de  Lord's  hands." 

"No,"  she  said,  hastily,   "I  won't  faint,  Jake,  for  I 


WILD    WORK.  59 

must  go  to  my  brother  now — tliis  moment.  I  will  go  with 
you." 

"Better  not.  Miss  Dell.  You'd  jest  take  the  fever 
yourself,  and  break  yer  pa's  heart.  I  thought  you  might 
use  your  'suasion  to  git  a  doctor  for  him  up  here  and  a 
nurse.  Me  and  Brudder  May  will  'tend  him  as  bes'  we 
kin,  but  we'se  boff  ole,  and  it  takes  mighty  strong  hands  to 
wait  on  de  yeller  fever.  You  couldn't  do  much  good,  Miss 
Dell ;  and  'tain't  'spected  of  you  to  go.  When  young  George 
Glaston  was  tuck,  dey  sent  up  for  his  ma  and  his  sister  what 
was  gone  to  dere  hill  place,  and  der  'lations  wouldn't  let 
'em  come,  nohow.  Miss  Annette's  sweetheart,  he  come 
down  hisself,  poor  fellow,  and  nuss'd  George  like  a  brud- 
der, and  now  he's  down,  and  no  hope  for  him.  Dey  sent 
George's  body  up  to  be  buried  in  the  fam'ly  graveyard,  on 
de  hills,  and  a  party  o'  men  rode  outer  de  woods  jes'  t'other 
side  de  riber  swamp,  and  drawed  up  in  de  road  fifty  yards 
ahead  o'  de  wagon  dat  had  de  corpse  in  it,  and  hollowed  to 
de  black  folks  dat  was  gwine  'long  wid  it,  to  stop  right  dare, 
and  dig  a  hole  an'  bury  de  body  in  it,  or  else  git  shot  like 
dogs  ;  kase  dey  shouldn't  take  a  yaller  fever  corpse  troo  de 
country,  and  dey  shouldn't  go  troo  it  deyselves.  Dat'll 
show  you  how  dreadful  folks  tink  de  yaller  fever  is." 

*' Dreadful!"  echoed  the  girl,  absently.  "I  must  go 
to  him  at  once.  I  won't  tell  them  here  where  I  am  going, 
for  fear  of  being  hindered.  I  v/ill  let  them  suppose  I  have 
been  sent  for  to  go  home.  They  will  lend  me  a  horse. 
While  it  is  being  saddled,  Jake,  you  go  to  Dr.  Pritchard, 
tell  him  I  sent  you,  and  beg  him  to  go  to  my  brother. 
Come  back  immediately.  Don't  tell  any  one  where  I  am 
going." 

She  was  ready  to  mount  the  waiting  horse  when  Jake 
rode  back,  having  failed  in  his  mission.  Dr.  Pritchard  said 
he  was  sorry,  but  he  dared  not  venture  on  the  river,  where 


gQ  WILD    WORK. 

the  disease  was  so  virulent.  He  had  a  family  to  whom  his 
life  was  important.  Besides,  he  would  lose  all  his  practice 
here,  if  it  was  known  he  had  visited  a  yellow-fever  patient. 

They  set  out  by  themselves,  riding  leisurely  until  out  of 
Bight  of  the  town,  for  Adelle  was  fearful  of  being  delayed 
by  arguments  against  the  step  she  was  taking,  if  her  friends 
found  it  out.  Once  away  from  the  town,  they  increased  their 
speed  to  a  gallop.  As  they  rode,  Adelle  said  :  *'I  trust 
they  will  not  hear  of  this  misfortune  at  home.  Father  and 
mother  would  come,  and  it  would  probably  be  their  death. 
Uncle  Jake,  did  you  charge  Dr.  Pritchard  not  to  tell  any 
one  that  Derrick  had  the  fever  ?" 

"  Yes,  missy,  I  told  him  yo;i  was  afeard  his  ma  would 
hear  it,  and  she  was  sickly  like." 

"  And  have  you  told  no  one  else  ?  " 

"Not  a  soul— yes,  I'm  tellin'  a  lie— I  told  Captain 
Witchell.  I  met  him  jes'  dis  side  o'  tovm,  goin'  toward  de 
riber.     He  'trected  me  to  de  doctor." 

It  was  a  long,  weary  ride.  It  seemed  to  Dell  that  they 
would  never  reach  their  journey's  end — never  leave  the  pines 
and  oaks  of  the  "  Hills"  behind.  It  was  near  sunset  when 
they  entered  the  river-swamp.  Adelle  felt  the  difference 
in  the  atmosphere  the  moment  that,  after  crossing  a  small 
bayou,  she  rode  under  the  great  ash-,  and  gum-,  and  cypress- 
trees,  hung  with  huge,  festooning  vines,  with  a  carpet  of 
grass  underneath. 

The  shadow  and  stillness  of  death  seemed  to  brood  under 
those  great  trees  and  knotted  vines.  Not  a  bird  sang — the 
rustle  of  a  snake  among  the  grass — the  stealthy  flap  of  an 
owl's  wing,  as  the  bird,  wakened  from  his  drowse  on  a  limb 
overhead,  flew  away,  skimming  his  level  flight  among  the 
huge  tree-trunks — these  were  the  only  sounds  that  broke 
the  gloomy  silence. 

It  was  strangely  still,  too,  out  in  the  broad  fields  and 


WILD    WORK.  61 

cleared  pasture-lands  which  they  soon  came  upon.  These 
were  green  with  riotous  growth,  but  they  bore  a  look  of 
neglect  and  desertion.  The  cotton  bolls  were  bursting 
open,  here  and  there,  and  thickly  in  patcnes,  with  none  to 
pick  them  ;  the  fodder  hung  brown  and  ungathered  upon 
the  corn-stalks.  Labor  had  become  paralyzed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  death.  The  negroes  did  nothing  but  wander  from 
one  plantation  to  another — in  some  instances  nursing  the 
sick  with  attentive  kindness,  but  usually  hanging  about  the 
plague-smitten  houses,  fascinated,  after  the  manner  of  their 
kind,  with  the  horror  of  death  and  suffering,  and  pleased 
with  the  chance  to  gossip  and  idle,  and  the  opportunity  to 
steal ;  at  one  moment  holding  vociferous  song-  and  prayer- 
meetings,  and  shedding  tears  over  the  delirous  patient ;  the 
next,  slipping  out  to  rob  his  hen-roost,  his  pig-pen,  or  his 
smoke-house.  Such  is  the  contradictory  nature  of  this  peo- 
ple. 

As  Adelle  and  her  gray-haired  but  active  and  garrulous 
companion  wound  their  way  down  to  the  river,  old  Jake 
pointed  to  a  fresh  mound  not  far  from  a  river  sand-bar,  and 
said : 

"Dere's  where  de  steamboat  Belle  Bowling  stop  las' 
Sunday  night,  and  buried  a  young  'oman  what  died  on 
board  wid  de  fever.  Dey  buried  her  'bout  midnight.  Tony 
Watts  seed  de  lights,  an'  comed  down.  He  sed  dey  took 
lier  out  mighty  easy,  fer  fear  of  waken'  de  passengers.  Dey 
never  does  let  'em  know  dare's  any  fever  on  board,  'fraid  o' 
der  leavin  de  boat." 

The  shrunken,  muddy  river  flowed  sluggishly  between 
its  steep  banks  ;  the  poisonous  night-fog  was  beginning  al- 
ready to  rise  from  it,  and  from  the  half  dried-up  sloughs 
filled  with  rank  grass,  tall  blossoming  weeds  and  croaking 
frogs. 

In  answer  to  Jake's  prolonged  **Eh-o-o-o,"  a  thick- 


62  ^-^^^    WOEK. 

lipped,  stupid-looking  negro  brought  over  a  flat.  As  he 
stepped  out  of  it  upon  the  sand,  Adelle  asked  : 

"  How  is  my  brother — how  is  Mr.  Holman  ?  " 

*'  I  hearn  a  while  ago  he  was  d-e-a-d,"  drawled  the  negro, 
pulling  at  the  chain  of  the  flat  in  a  leisurely  way. 

"Dead!" 

**  Well,  no'm.  'Twant  him  ;  I  dunno  how  he  is.  'Twar 
Major  Copley,  down  de  river.  He's  had  to  gib  up  de  game 
at  las',  Jake." 

*'He  has?"  returned  Jake,  and  explained  that  w^hen 
"de  fever  corned,  de  major  shut  hisself  and  his  man  Dank 
up  stairs  in  de  ole  house,  wid  a  bar'l  o'  whisky,  and  swore 
he'd  stay  and  tough  it  out.  Yallow  Jack  'd  never  come  his 
way.  Whisky  'd  kill  him  dead'n  a  cottonwood  stump,  if 
he  did.  Well,  Yallow  Jack  struck  him  las'  Monday,  war'nt 
it.  Bill  ?  and  de  fus'  ting  he  done,  when  the  lirum  tuck 
him,  was  to  jump  up  outer  de  bed  and  stave  in  the  whisky- 
bar'l.  Den  he  paddled  and  sjolosh  about  in  de  licker  over  de 
floor,  and  holler  out  he's  in  de  lake  o'  fire  and  brim-stone." 

"  He's  dere  now,  sure  enuff,"  Bill  said,  shaking  his 
stupid  head  wisely.  "Died  a  cussin',  and  a  hollerin'  out 
de  debil  had  'im  ! " 

This  cheerful  conversation,  added  to  her  suspense  and 
distress,  set  every  nerve  in  Adelle's  body  to  quivering  so 
that  she  could  hardly  keep  her  seat  in  the  saddle  when 
they  had  remounted  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and 
were  riding  the  quarter  of  a  mile  that  lay  between  the 
crossing  and  the  house  where  her  brother  lived.  The  road 
ran  near  the  bank,  with  the  stream  on  one  side  and  the 
fields  (unfenced)  upon  the  other.  But  now,  both  field  and 
river  were  hid  by  the  ranks  of  tall  weeds  that  grew  on  either 
side,  crowding  close  to  the  narrow  road,  in  which  nothing 
but  the  constant  trampling  of  horses  ridden  by  negroes  had 
kept  them  down. 


WILD    WORK,  e3 

At  last  they  were  at  the  gate  of  the  old  weather-beaten, 
moss-grown  house  in  which  Derrick  had  set  up  his  bache- 
lor's hall.  An  enormous  pecan-tree  shaded  it  at  one  end, 
fennel  and  coffee-weeds  grew  up  to  the  door-step,  the  gate 
swung  open  on  its  broken  hinges,  and  hogs  and  little  ne- 
groes were  feasting  on  the  fallen  peaches  in  the  grass  of  the 
orchard.  A  couple  of  negro  women  were  despoiling  the 
garden  of  the  few  cabbages  that  dared  to  show  their  heads 
among  the  weeds. 

With  that  cowardly  dread  that  assails  us  when  suspense 
is  about  to  be  exchanged  for  certainty,  Adelle  shrank  from 
asking  the  negroes  how  her  brother  was.  She  would  rather 
solve  the  dreadful  doubt  with  her  own  eyes. 

She  jumped  from  her  horse  so  hurriedly  that  her  foot 
received  a  wrench  which  made  her  fall  to  her  knees  with 
keen  pain.  In  a  moment  she  had  mastered  it,  and  rising 
to  her  feet  she  turned  to  enter  the  gate.  But  a  man's  tall 
form  barred  the  way,  and  Captain  WitchelFs  voice  said 
calmly  : 

'^  Miss  Holman,  you  must  not  go  in." 

She  looked  at  him  in  haughty  surprise. 

"Do  not  dare  forbid  me,"  she  said.  ''My  brother  is 
ill ;  I  must  be  with  him.     Let  me  pass,  sir." 

''  Not  till  you  have  listened  to  a  word  of  reason.  Your 
brother  has  the  fever,  but  it  is  not  necessarily  fatal.  With 
good  nursing  he  may  recover." 

''I  have  come  to  be  his  nurse." 

"  You  have  no  idea  of  the  sort  of  nursing  a  person  with 
yellow  fever  requires.  Calmness  and  physical  strength  are 
needed.  You  are  not  fitted  for  the  task.  Then  you  are 
more  than  likely  to  take  the  fever  yourself.  The  fatigue 
and  anxiety  you  are  suffering  this  moment  predispose  you  to 
take  it  at  once.  Then  we  would  have  two  patients  instead 
of  one.     If  your  brother  should  recognize  you,  anxiety  on 


64:  WILD   WORE. 

your  account  would  make  him  worse.  The  least  thing  tells 
against  the  patient  in  this  disease." 

"  Captain  Witchell,  I  came  here  to  see  my  brother,  to 
be  with  him  while  he  is  ill ;  do  you  think  I  can  stand  here 
and  know  he  is  suffering  yonder,  and  yet  keep  away  from 
him,  through  consideration  for  my  own  safety  ?  " 

'*Your  parents  deserve  also  to  be  considered.  What 
would  they  suffer,  knowing  that  you  both  are  in  danger  ? 
But,  if  you  could  do  your  brother  any  good — " 

"You  have  said  that  good  nursing  may  save  him." 

"It  may,  and  he  shall  have  it.  I  will  myself  be  his 
nurse." 

**  You  ?  You  will  do  what  his  sister  must  not  ?  You 
will  expose  yourself  to  danger  when  she  draws  back — you, 
a  stranger,  an — " 

"Enemy,  you  would  say,  but  I  have  no  enmity  for  him, 
nor  any  of  these  people.  In  the  end  it  will  be  proved.  But 
let  that  pass.  I  shall  not  risk  much  by  attending  on  your 
brother.  I  have  been  several  times  in  the  midst  of  yellow 
fever ;  I  have  experience  in  nursing  it ;  it  requires  constant 
watchfulness  to  see  that  the  patient  does  not  uncover  him- 
self in  his  delirious  tossings.  The  bed-covering  must  be 
held  down  by  force.     Much  depends  upon  this." 

"Is  my  brother  delirious?  Oh,  how  he  must  suffer! 
Captain  Witchell,  stand  aside,  I  will  see  my  brother,  if  I  die 
for  it." 

"No,  Miss  Holman,  I  will  not  let  you  see  him.  The 
doors  of  that  house  are  locked  ;  the  keys  are  in  my  pocket. 
I  will  not  permit  you  to  enter. " 

His  determined  look  made  her  falter.  That  look  on  a 
man's  face — the  look  of  knowing  what  he  is  about,  and 
being  resolved  to  hold  to  it — usually  masters  a  woman,  and 
turns  opposition  into  trust.  But  she  tried  to  stand  firm 
against  it. 


WILD    WORK.  65 

''  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  What  right  have  you  to 
oppose  me  ?  " 

*'The  right  of  common  sense,  Miss  Holman.  I  have 
told  you  I  shall  nurse  your  brother,  and  that  he  shall  want 
for  nothing.  I  have  sent  a  messenger  to  N for  a  physi- 
cian. I  know  him,  and  he  will  come  for  me.  The  negroes 
will  help  nurse  your  brother.  They  are  frightened,  but 
they  will  obey  me." 

"  But  I  can  not  go  back  and  leave  my  brother  this  way, 
not  knowing  what  his  fate  may  be  ;  indeed,  I  can  not.  Let 
me  at  least  stay  near  here  ;  and  promise  that  you  will  let  me 
know  if  he  is  worse." 

Witchell  thought  a  moment. 

*^  You  can  not,  indeed,  go  back  to-night.  It  is  already 
nearly  dark.  But  where  can  you  stay  ?  I  think  there  is 
not  a  white  woman  left  in  this  part  of  the  country.  Both 
those  houses  yonder  are  deserted  and  shut  up ;  in  that 
one  there,  the  corpse  of  a  young  man  has  lain  since  yester- 
day. 

He  pointed,  as  he  spoke,  to  different  plantation  houses 
which  could  be  seen  along  the  windings  of  the  river  across 
the  level  country. 

*'WhatcanIdo?" 

"  You  must  not  stay  out  any  longer.  It  is  dangerous, 
now  that  the  sun  has  set.  There  are  nothing  here  but  the 
negro  cabins,  but  there  is  one  of  these  you  might  stay  in  to- 
night, at  least.  It  is  only  occupied  by  an  old  negro  woman. 
She  is  eccentric,  and  the  negroes  shun  her,  and  call  her  a 
witch  ;  so  that  they  will  not  intrude  upon  you.  One  of  her 
hobbies  is  to  be  always  washing  and  scrubbing,  and  you  will 
find  everything  about  her  perfectly  clean.  You  will  be  bet- 
ter there  than  anywhere  I  can  think  of  now.  Let  me  take 
you  there  at  once.  It  is  advisable  that  you  get  in  out  of  the 
evening  air  ;  and  I  must  go  back  to  your  brother." 


G6  WILD    WORK. 

She  hesitated,  and  stood  half  bewildered.  It  was  all  so 
strange.  This  country,  so  gloomy  and  waste-looking  in  spite 
of  its  wealth  of  green  ;  that  old  weather-beaten  house,  lying 
among  the  weeds  like  a  stranded  wreck  ;  death  all  around  ; 
death  in  the  air,  and  her  only  brother  lying  yonder,  delirious 
of  the  fatal  fever,  nursed  by  a  man  he  hated,  and  this  same 
man  getting  the  mastery  over  her,  making  her  look  up  to 
him,  and  trust  to  him  to  plan  for  her  safety. 

It  all  seemed  strange.  She  put  her  hand  to  her  brow 
in  confused  thought.  As  it  fell  again  to  her  side  Cap- 
tain Witchell  took  it  quietly,  drew  it  within  his  arm,  and, 
without  a  word,  guided  her  steps  away  from  the  house 
toward  the  row  of  cabins  that  faced  the  river  farther  up. 
One  of  these  was  isolated  from  the  others,  and  stood  back 
under  a  tall  cottonwood-tree.  Before  the  door  of  this 
cabin  several  fires  were  blazing  and  crackling,  sending  up 
bright  sparks  through  the  dusk.  Distinct  in  the  glare 
stood  the  tall,  withered  figure  of  an  old  negro  woman,  who 
was  heaping  on  the  fires  the  brush  and  C3rpress  knees  she 
had  brought  up  from  the  swamp.  She  wore  a  big-flowered 
cotton  dress,  faded  and  fantastically  bepatched,  but  clean  ; 
a  strip  of  red  shawl  was  tied  about  her  head,  under  which 
shone  her  small,  keen  face  and  sharp  little  eyes.  Captain 
Witchell  pointed  to  the  figure  standing  among  the  smoke 
and  glare. 

**If  you  should  ask  me,  with  Banquo,  ^  Wlio  is  this — so 
withered,  and  so  wild  in  her  attire  ?'  I  would  make  answer, 
It  is  Aunt  Margaret — the  reputed  conjuress — who  is  herself 
desperately  afraid  of  being  '  conjured.'  She  is  a  queer  char- 
acter, a  little  crazed  at  times,  but  perfectly  harmless  ;  and 
there  is  usually  a  method  in  her  madness.  Those  fires,  for 
instance  ;  she  has  kindled  them  every  evening  since  the  fever 
made  its  appearance.  I  can't  tell  where  she  got  the  idea, 
but  it  is  a  good  one.     The  heat  kills  the  floating  germs  of 


WILD    WORK.  67 

the  disease,  wliicli  are  especially  active  and  plentiful  in  the 
still  air  of  evening. " 

She  took  no  notice  of  their  approach,  but,  passing  from 
one  little  fire-heap  to  another,  pushed  up  the  crackling 
brush  and  muttered  her  satisfaction  as  the  tongues  of  flame 
leaped  up,  and  the  sparks  flew  out.  Captain  Witchell  touched 
her  on  the  shoulder,  upon  which  she  turned  and  courtesied 
in  a  stately  way.  But,  on  his  explaining  Adelle's  situation, 
and  his  wish  that  she  should  find  shelter  for  the  night  in 
her  house,  she  shook  her  head,  declaring  :  ^^  Can't  let  no- 
body stay  in  my  house.  I  might  be  blind,  or  stiff-dead  in  de 
mornin' ;  too  many  tryin'  to  put  bad  eye  on  ole  Margaret." 

Fear  of  being  "  conjured  "  haunted  this  old  creature  con- 
tinually, and  it  was  not  until  after  much  persuasion  from 
Captain  Witchell,  aided  by  the  silver  piece  he  pressed  in 
her  hand,  and  supplemented  at  last  by  a  stern  declaration 
of  authority,  that  she  was  induced  to  promise  Adelle  a  shel- 
ter in  her  house,  and  kindness  and  attention  at  her  hands. 

*^She  will  keep  her  word  faithfully  when  she  has  once 
given  it,"  Captain  Witchell  said.  *^  I  have  occasion  to  know 
she  is  stanch  and  honest,  in  spite  of  her  crotchets.  She 
will  make  you  as  comfortable  as  she  can.  And  now  go  in  ; 
I  must  get  back  to  my  patient.  I  will  send  you  word  to- 
night how  he  is. " 

He  was  gone,  and  she  had  said  no  word  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  kindness.  Why  was  he  doing  this  ?  What 
was  his  motive  for  the  generous  deed  he  was  performing  ? 
Was  it  "policy"  ?  Was  this  merely  a  step  toward  gaining 
popularity  with  that  better  class  of  citizens  who  were  so 
opposed  to  him  ?  Of  course,  nothing  really  disinterested 
and  noble  could  be  the  moving  principle  of  such  a  man, 
and  yet — 

"What  time  did  Captain  Witchell  come  down  here  ?" 
she  asked  old  Margaret. 
4 


GS  WILD    WOKE. 

"I  soe  liim  crossin'  do  ribber  'bout  three  hours  by 
sun.  Heard  lie  had  cum  down  to  see  Majer  Kopley  on 
business  and  found  out  he's  dead,  and  dat  dis  one  up  here" 
— pointing  to  the  house  where  Derrick  lay — "  was  like  to 
die,  and  his  nusses  scared  and  runned  away — ole  Jake  fust 
one,  do'  he  brags  so  on  hisself,  and  make  out  he's  sich  a 
brave  Christian.  Jake's  a  'sateful  old  hypocrick,  but  he's 
not  much  worse'n  de  balance.  Bound  he'll  not  go  nigh  dat 
sick  young  man,  less  Witchell  makes  him.  lie  can  make 
'em  all  do  anything  he  wants  to." 

*'  How  ?"  Adelle  asked,  seeing  that  the  old  negro's  face 
put  on  a  look  of  mystery. 

''Ah!  dat's  it.  He's  got  de  power."  She  pointed 
down,  as  if  to  signify  that  the  "power  "  came  from  below. 

Adelle  obeyed  Captain  Witchell's  injunction  to  go  in 
doors.  Seated  in  a  rude  poplar  cliair,  that  had  been  scoured 
to  immaculate  whiteness,  she  watched  old  Margaret  flitting, 
witch-like,  around  her  pots  and  ovens,  lifting  a  ''spider" 
lid  to  show  the  corn  loaves  turning  a  rich  brown,  and  peer- 
ing into  an  oven  from  which  escaped  a  savory  steam.  A 
negro  came  to  the  cabin  door,  set  down  a  wooden  tray  full 
of  things,  and  with  the  words,  "Cap'n  Witchell  sent  'em," 
vanished. 

"  Might  'er  had  manners  to  come  in  and  set  it  on  de 
table,"  grumbled  the  old  woman,  inspecting  the  contents 
of  the  various  vessels  that  filled  the  tray.  "  Flour  ;  where 
de  lard  to  make  it  up  wid,  I  wonder  ?  Oh,  here  it  is. 
Sugar  ;  mighty  scase  of  it ;  spec  dat  triflin'  nigger  been 
stuffin'  hisself  wid  it  on  de  way.  Coffee ;  drefful  little, 
shrivly  grains.     What  dat  in  de  tin  cup  ?    A-h-h-h  ! " 

The  sniff  she  took  of  the  contents  of  the  cup  had  the 
effect  of  suddenly  putting  her  in  a  good  humor  ;  and,  after 
sweetening  the  "dram"  to  her  taste  and  drinking  it  eager- 
ly down,  she  was  ready  to  fly  around  with  an  alacrity  that 


WILD    WORK.  69 

surprised  Addle.  The  odor  of  parching  coffee  soon  dif- 
fused itself  through  the  room,  a  Iittl(j  square  table  was 
drawn  out  and  spread  with  a  clean,  coarse  cloth,  a  gayly 
flowered  plate,  cup  and  saucer,  were  deposited  upon  it,  and 
then  the  covered  oven  disclosed  its  savory  mystery — a  rab- 
])it  baked  crisp,  but  juicy — the  brown  dodgers  were  turned 
out,  and  these,  with  a  saucer  of  golden  honey,  the  steaming 
coffee,  and  a  small,  red-hearted  watermelon,  constituted  the 
supper  to  which  Aunt  Margaret  invited  her  guest  to  sit 
down.  She  herself  took  a  seat  by  the  hearth,  pretending 
to  poke  the  fire,  while  she  covertly  watched  Adelle  with 
satisfaction  as  she  drank  the  coffee  and  ate  a  slice  of  the 
bread  and  honey. 

When  the  supper  was  over,  Adelle  drew  her  chair  close 
to  the  door  for  the  sake  of  air,  and  old  Margaret,  having 
replenished  her  fires  outside,  sat  down  on  the  door  step  and 
puffed  away  at  her  pipe.  The  night  was  clouded,  the  moon 
shone  feebly  ;  through  the  stillness  came  sounds  of  people 
talking,  as  they  passed  along  the  river-side  road  in  front. 

*'  It's  niggers  goin'  to  Little  Dan's  buryin',"  old  Mar- 
garet said.  *'  Goin'  to  bury  him  to-night  under  de  pecan- 
tree  in  his  cotton  fieP,  what  he  used  to  love  to  sit  under  an' 
oversee  his  hands.  Dey'll  see.  His  sperrit  gwine  ter  haunt 
dat  fieP  'til  judgment  day,  and  dey  dassent  pass  troo  it  at 
night,  or  hunt  another  possum  in  it  agin.  Ought  to  buried 
him  in  de  fam'ly  graveyard  on  de  hills,  only  he  told  'em  he 
didn't  want  to  go  dere — too  lonesome  in  dat  piney  woods 
for  Dan.  Dan  born  on  de  ribber,  and  he  love  de  red  dirt. 
He  tole  'em  he  didn't  want  to  lie  out  o'  hearin'  of  de  steam- 
boat's whistle.  Poor  Dan  !  De  black  people  grieved  after 
him  mightily.     Dey  nussed  him  well  too — nobody  but  dem." 

**  Had  he  no  relations  ?  " 

"Sisters,  but  livin'  further  down  de  river,  and  got  sick- 
ness and  death  wid  dem  too.     And  Dan  was  always  one  to 


70  WILD   WORK. 

himself,  never  had  no  wife,  no  sweetheart,  nor  went  off 
nowhere ;  jes'  stayed  up  yonder  in  dat  old  house,  where 
most  all  his  folks  died.  He's  lyin'  up  dere  now — what  of 
him  hasn't  gone  below." 

**  Gone  below  ?    Why  do  you  say  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Cause  it's  so.  lie  died  awful.  Dey  all  die  so — hollerin' 
and  jumpin'  out  'er  bed,  and  sayin'  de  imps  is  after  'em." 

'*  Because  they  are  delirious,  or  crazed  with  pain.  It 
is  the  nature  of  the  disease." 

She  shook  her  head  incredulously.  To  her  mind,  and 
the  minds  of  her  race,  all  who  do  not  die  happy,  "  go  be- 
low." 

"  Him  up  yonder  is  hollerin'  now ;  I  heard  him,"  she 
said  presently,  with  a  gesture  of  her  head  toward  Derrick's 
house. 

Adelle  started  up  in  terror  and  self-reproach.  Derrick 
might  be  dying  as  Little  Dan  died,  with  no  friend  or  rela- 
tive near  him. 

"  I  will  go  to  him,"  she  cried. 

As  she  reached  the  door,  she  came  face  to  face  with  the 
negro  who  had  brought  the  tray.  He  put  a  slip  of  paper 
in  her  hand  and  disappeared.  She  hurried  to  the  light, 
and  read  : 

'*  Your  brother  is  no  worse.  I  have  hopes,  but  the  fever 
must  run  its  course.  The  crisis  will  not  be  reached  before 
to-morrow.     You  shall  know  when  there  is  any  change." 

She  sat  down  again,  and  strove  to  quiet  herself.  An 
hour  went  by  ;  old  Margaret  nodded  in  the  chimney  corner  ; 
Adelle  had  thrown  herself  across  the  bed,  over  whose  white 
sheet  had  been  spread  a  clean,  faded  quilt.  She  lay,  look- 
ing about  the  little  room  with  bright,  sleepless  eyes,  and 
listening.  Presently,  she  thought  she  heard  a  cry.  She 
rose  softly,  undid  the  door-latch,  and  went  out.  The  night 
had  grown  gloomier  ;  thick  fog  lay  upon  the  river ;  Marga- 


WILD    WORK.  71 

ret's  fires  had  burned  low.  Looking  toward  the  dwelling- 
house,  she  saw  the  dull  gleam  of  the  sick-lamp  in  the  upper 
front  room.  So  it  was  there  her  brother  was  lying.  As 
she  looked,  and  strained  her  ears  to  catch  some  sound,  the 
light  at  the  window  was  intercepted  by  a  man's  form.  She 
knew  that  tall,  spare  figure,  that  attitude,  the  arms  folded, 
the  head  slightly  bent.  He  was  standing,  looking  out  at 
the  night.  Presently,  he  turned  quickly  as  if  at  a  call 
from  within.  He  had  gone  to  her  brother's  bedside — he 
had  promised  to  watch  him  faithfully  ;  he  would  fulfill  his 
word  ;  she  had  perfect  trust  in  this.  And  he  had  said  there 
was  hope  ;  she  clung  to  his  words,  even  while  she  wondered 
at  herself  for  feeling  such  confidence  in  the  man  she  de- 
spised. 

Again  she  heard  the  sound  that  had  first  startled  her. 
It  did  not  come  from  her  brother's  room.  It  was  farther 
off.  Looking,  she  saw,  across  a  bend  in  the  river,  torches 
moving  slowly,  as  in  a  procession  ;  notes  of  wild  singing 
came  to  her  ears.  The  negroes  were  burying  "  Little  Dan '' 
(so  called  because  his  father,  who  was  dead,  had  borne  the 
same  Christian  name)  ;  they  were  burying  him  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  cotton  field,  under  the  pecan-tree,  where  he  had 
loved  to  sit  on  the  cool  grass  with  his  dog  beside  him,,  and 
exchange  friendly  words  with  the  hands  as  they  passed  up 
and  down  the  long  rows  wielding  their  hoes,  or  dragging 
their  cotton-picking  sacks.  They  were  burying  him  there 
with  none  of  his  kin  or  color  to  see  the  rude  ceremony,  and 
that  wild,  mournful  strain  was  the  sound  of  the  hymns 
they  were  singing  as  they  bore  him  to  his  grave. 

Heart-sick,  Adelle  went  back  to  the  cabin.  Old  Mar- 
garet was  awake  and  had  resumed  her  pipe. 

*^  You'll  catch  your  death  out  dere,"  she  said,  placidly  ; 
'^Yallow  Jack  likes  de  whitest  skins  de  best.  They'se 
buryin  Little  Dan  ;  I  hearn  'em  singin'.     It's  better'n  dey 


72  WILD    WORK. 

did  by  poor  Tom  Wallace  back  here  in  de  swamp.  Dey 
h'ad  got  skeered  ;  and  didn't  like  him  much  nohow.  Most 
dey'd  do  was  to  dig  a  grave  in  one  corner  de  yard,  and 
knock  up  a  c}^ress  coffin,  and  slide  it  onto  de  gallery.  His 
young  wife  and  her  father — him  wid  de  fever  on  him,  too — 
had  to  do  de  rest — to  git  de  body  in  de  coffin  somehow,  and 
den  roll  and  push  de  coffin  till  dey  roll  it  into  de  grave,  and 
cover  it  theirselves. " 

Shuddering  at  the  gloomy  picture,  Adelle  lay  down  and 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillow.  Sleep  came  to  her  at  last — 
the  deep,  sweet  sleep  that  comes  to  the  relief  of  over- wearied 
body  and  over-burdened  brain.  When  she  awoke,  it  was 
broad  daylight.  A  breakfast  of  eggs  and  biscuits,  fried 
chicken  and  fragrant  coffee  was  smoking  on  the  little  table 
near  her,  and  old  Margaret  stood  by  her  bed. 

She  started  up  in  dread.  "  My  brother  !  "  she  cried, 
looking  wildly  at  Margaret.  The  old  negress  smiled  grimly, 
and  handed  her  another  leaf  of  the  little  pocket  note-book. 
She  read  on  it : 

*'  Nothing  that  can  be  called  a  change.  The  disease  is 
approaching  a  crisis.     Dr.  Mercer  is  here.     Have  courage." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  long  September  day  seemed  interminable.  The 
hours  dragged  on— hot,  still,  suffocating.  In  the  brooding 
hush.  Derrick's  cries  more  than  once  reached  his  sister's 
ears,  as  she  sat  on  a  bench  under  the  cottonwood-tree,  with 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  windows  of  that  front  room  in 
which  her  brother  lay. 

As  the  day  drew  to  a  close  the  heat  became  more  op- 
pressive, the  aspect  of  the  sky  more  threatening.     Each 


WILD    WORK.  73 

afternoon,  for  several  days  past,  tlie  sky  had  darkened,  and 
emitted  lightnings,  but  now  the  clouds  rolled  up  in  larger 
and  darker  masses,  shaded  and  streaked  with  lurid  bronze. 
About  the  hour  of  sunset  the  earth  and  sky  were  suddenly 
bathed  in  a  wierd,  blood-like  glow,  that  contrasted  start- 
lingly  with  the  darkness  of  the  clouds,  shutting  down,  like 
a  black  lid,  upon  the  horizon. 

Adelle  had  walked  down  along  the  river  bank  till  she 
came  to  a  point  in  front  of  Derrick's  house,  that  stood  back 
some  distance  from  the  river — a  black-looking  hulk,  strand- 
ed in  a  sea  of  weeds.  She  stood  there  on  the  brink  of  the 
steep  bank  and  watched  the  ghastly  glow  reflected  far  along 
in  the  waters  of  the  river.  She  watched  it  in  awe.  It 
seemed  ominous  of  evil,  and  the  vulture,  circling  slowly 
under  the  black  sky  in  the  midst  of  the  bloody  radiance, 
seemed  to  scent  approaching  death,  and  to  luxuriate  in  the 
scent  with  a  slow,  languorous  joy. 

As  she  stood  impressed  with  the  wildness  of  the  scene, 
suddenly  she  heard  her  awn  name  called  aloud  in  tones  that 
pierced  shrilly  through  the  unearthly  stillness.  She  lis- 
tened ;  the  cry  came  again  ;  it  was  Derrick's  voice — he  was 
calling  upon  her  in  his  agony.  She  could  bear  it  no  longer. 
She  ran  straight  to  the  house.  She  found  the  gate  fastened 
with  a  chain,  and,  while  she  was  trying  to  undo  it,  Captain 
Witchell  came  out  to  her. 

"  Why  will  you  persist  in  this  ?  "  he  said,  sternly.  '^  It 
is  useless  ;  I  can  not  let  you  come  in." 

"I  will,"  she  cried.  '^You  dare  not  turn  me  away. 
My  brother  calls  me.     He  is  dying." 

"He  is  not.  There  is  hope  for  him,  but  everything 
depends  on  the  next  two  hours.  We  are  striving  to  keep 
him  calm ;  the  least  excitement  increases  the  restlessness 
and  fever.  The  sight  of  your  face,  which  it  is  possible  he 
would  recognize,  might  ruin  all  at  this  delicate  crisis.     All 


74  WILD    WORK. 

that  can  be  done  for  him  is  being  done.     Will  you  still 
persist  in  being  unreasonable  ?  " 

*^No;    I  will  go  back  and  wait.      Forgive  me;    this 
anxiety  is  hard  to  bear. " 

She  turned  away,  but  looked  back  to  say:  "In  two 
hours — will  you  then  let  me  know  ?  " 

He  nodded  his  head  in  silence,  and  went  quickly  back 
into  the  house,  fastening  the  door  after  him. 

Before  the  two  hours  had  fully  passed  there  were  con- 
fusion and  terror  in  the  little  row  of  cabins  along  the  river. 
The  threatened  elemental  disturbance  came  in  the  shape  of 
a  storm  of  wind  and  lightning.  The  wind  came  in  strong 
gusts,  that  swept  roaring  through  the  far  forests,  and  bowed 
the  young  ash  and  cottonwoods  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
river  to  the  very  earth.  The  rotten  old  cabins  rocked  like 
cradles  in  the  blast,  and  the  frightened  negroes  rushed  out 
of  them  and  huddled  together,  shrieking,  in  the  open,  tree- 
less space  between  the  houses  and  the  river.  It  was  so  dark 
that  hardly  the  shadowy  outlines  qf  their  figures  could  be 
seen,  save  when  a  flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  gi'oup  with 
momentary  distinctness.  The  last  gleam  showed  a  strange 
sight — a  lovely  white  face  in  the  midst  of  all  those  dusky 
ones — streaming  hair,  wild,  dark  eyes,  and  a  little  figure 
swaying  in  the  wind,  as  she  clung  fast  to  old  Margaret  to 
keep  from  being  swept  away.  She  did  not  see  the  light 
that  was  coming  toward  them  from  the  house — a  lantern 
borne  by  a  man,  who,  battling  with  the  wind,  could  scarce- 
ly keep  his  feet  as  he  struggled  to  approach  them.  At 
last  he  reached  the  group,  huddled  and  clinging  together 
in  front  of  their  shaking  huts.  The  light  falling  on  him 
revealed  the  face  of  Witch  ell.  A  flash  showed  him  Adelle. 
She  stretched  out  her  hands  in  involuntary  aj^peal ;  he 
went  to  her,  gathered  around  her  the  shawl  she  was  trying 
hard  to  hold,  and  supported  her  with  his  arm. 


WILD   WORK.  75 

"Are  you  all  safe  ?"  lie  cried,  as  a  lull  came  in  the 
wind.  "I  think  there  is  only  one  of  those  houses  that 
will  go  ;  the  third  one,  there.     Is  every  one  out  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Cap'n,"  responded  several  voices.  Then  a  woman 
shrieked : 

"  Where's  ole  Granny  Betty  ?  She  was  in  dere,  in  bed, 
by  de  door.     She  couldn't  git  out." 

"  And  she's  in  there  yet  ?  Good  heavens  !  she  must  be 
got  out  at  once.  Quick,  boys  !  The  house  will  not  stand 
another  blast." 

But  no  one  moved.     The  danger  seemed  too  great. 

"Then  I'll  go  myself — here,"  he  thrust  the  lantern  into 
the  hand  of  a  negro,  and  rushed  into  the  cabin.  At  the 
same  moment  was  heard  the  sound  of  the  wind  returning 
to  the  charge,  shrieking  as  it  tore  through  the  woods  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  It  came  ;  it  struck  the 
group  cowering  from  it  in  the  darkness  ;  it  hurled  its  fierce 
strength  against  the  tottering  cabins ;  there  was  a  sound 
of  timbers  giving  way,  then  a  crash  of  boards  and  heavy 
logs. 

"He  is  killed  ! "  shrieked  Adelle,  but  that  instant  a 
flash  of  lightning  showed  her  Witchell  coming  toward  her, 
carrying  the  old  paralytic  he  had  snatched  from  the  falling 
house.  He  set  her  down  near  Adelle  ;  there  was  silence  for 
an  instant,  then  the  group  sent  up  a  shout  of  "  Hurrah  for 
Cap'n  Witchell ; "  and  the  voice  of  the  old  negress  could  be 
heard  in  the  lull  of  the  storm,  mumbling  blessings  on  her 
preserver.  The  light  of  the  lantern  streamed  over  her 
withered  form;  the  rain  blew  on  her  shriveled  face  and 
gray  hair  ;  her  trembling  hands  were  held  out  as  if  to  ward 
it  off.  Adelle  snatched  off  her  shawl,  and  wrapped  it  around 
the  pitiable  figure.  Captain  Witchell  moved  forward,  as  if 
to  prevent  her,  but  he  stopped  short,  and  the  next  moment 
Adelle  felt  him  throw  somethinor  over  her  own  shoulders. 


76  WILD    WORK. 

draw  it  up  about  her  head,  and  fasten  it  around  her.  It 
was  his  coat ;  he  had  tied  it  in  front  by  the  sleeves.  She 
was  about  to  speak  in  deprecation,  when  another  burst  of 
wind  took  away  her  breath.  Instinctively,  she  clung  to 
him,  and  with  his  arm  around  her  he  sustained  her  against 
the  wind,  that  now  came  mixed  with  rain.  The  instant  it 
had  subsided,  he  removed  his  arm. 

"This  blast  was  less  severe  than  the  last  one,"  he  said. 
'^  The  worst  is  over.  You  can  all  go  back  into  your  houses 
without  fear.  Take  this  poor  old  woman  in,  and  send  to 
me  for  some  brandy  for  her.  Come,  Miss  Holman,  let  me 
help  you  to  shelter  at  once.  The  rain  will  fall  in  torrents, 
now  that  the  wind  has  lulled. " 

"  My  brother,  Captain  Witchell,  how  is  he  ?  " 

'•^I  have  good  news  for  you.  He  is  better ;  the  crisis  is 
past.     He  is  sleeping  in  spite  of  the  storm." 

Clinging  to  his  arm,  she  reached  the  cabin  from  which 
she  had  fled  in  such  fright  a  short  time  before.  Old  Mar- 
garet followed,  and  knelt  down  by  the  hearth,  bemoaning 
her  scattered  pots  and  extinguished  fire.  Captain  Witchell 
laughed  encouragingly. 

"Let  me  see  if  I  can  not  soon  remedy  it,"  he  said,  tak- 
ing some  matches  from  his  pocket,  and  kneeling  down  by 
the  hearth.  In  a  few  moments  he  had  kindled  a  blaze, 
and,  collecting  the  scattered  brands  and  piling  on  more 
wood  from  a  box  in  the  chimney-corner,  he  soon  had  the 
little  room  lighted  and  warmed. 

"Now,  Aunt  Margaret,  you  can  make  Miss  Holman  a 
hot  cup  of  coffee  at  once  ;  and  see  that  she  gets  thoroughly 
dry.  I  hope  she  will  rest  in  peace  to-night,  since  her  broth- 
er is  out  of  danger." 

"  Out  of  danger  ?    Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Yes.  Unless  he  has  a  relapse,  which  good  nursing 
will  prevent.     He  had  been  sleeping  an  hour  when  I  left. 


WILD    WORK.  77 

Dr.  Mercer  says  when  lie  wakes  he  will  be  in  his  right 
mind.  You  can  go  home,  and  feel  little  uneasiness.  1  will 
leaye  him  with  good  nurses. 

"  Leaye  him  ?    Are  you  going  away  ?  " 

"Early  in  the  morning.  I  shall  not  see  him  again,  if 
it  is  as  well  with  him  as  I  believe  it  is.  Dr.  Mercer  will 
stay  all  day  with  him,  and,  as  I  have  said,  he  has  two  ex- 
perienced nurses  besides.  He  will  not  need  me.  May  I 
trouble  you  now  for  my  coat  ?  " 

"Oh!  I  had  forgotten  !  And  how  chilled  you  must 
be  ! ''  Coloring  deeply,  she  undid  the  knotted  sleeves  with 
agitated  fingers.  He  drew  the  coat  on,  and  buttoned  it 
around  his  square-shouldered  figure. 

"I  shall  not  probably  see  you  to-morrow,"  he  said,  "as 
our  roads  lie  in  different  directions,  but  you  will  receive  an 
account  of  your  brother.     Jake  will  attend  you  home." 

He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  rain-wet  hair  and  turned 
toward  the  door.  He  was  going,  and  she  had  not  yet  said 
a  word  in  acknowledgment  of  his  kindness.  She  rose  to 
her  feet  and  faltered  : 

"  Captain  Witchell,  how  can  we  ever  repay  you  for  what 
you  have  done  ?  " 

He  looked  down  at  her,  a  smiling  light  in  his  blue 
eyes. 

"  What  I  have  done  is  only  the  duty  one  human  being 
owes  another.  If  you  wish,  you  can  repay  it  by  not  believ- 
ing all  the  evil  you  hear  of  me.  Even  the  devil  is  not  as 
black  as  he  is  painted.  And  there  is  one  more  favor  I  wish 
to  ask.  Do  not  tell  your  brother  that  I  was  with  him  in 
his  illness.  He  was  delirious,  and  did  not  know  me.  The 
negroes  will  not  betray  me,  nor  will  Dr.  Mercer.  Will  you, 
too,  keep  silent  ?  " 

"  Why  should  he  not  know  ?  " 

"He  does  not  like  me — hates  me,  as  you  are  aware.    He 


78  WILD    WORK, 

will  misjudge  my  motives;  and  he  may  tliink  himself 
bound  in  gratitude  to  me.  I  want  nothing  of  the  kind. 
I  have  done  only  what  humanity  prompted,  but  he  and  his 
friends  may  put  a  different  construction  on  my  actions.  I 
ask  you,  as  a  favor,  not  to  speak  to  your  brother  or  to  any 
one  of  my  being  with  him  when  he  had  the  fever." 

**  Since  you  ask  it,  I  promise  not  to  do  so  ;  but — " 

"  That  is  well.     I  know  I  can  trust  you.     Good  night ! " 

He  was  going  away  without  any  other  farewell,  but 
Adelle  stepped  closer  to  him  and  held  out  her  hand. 

She  did  not  say  a  word,  but  her  eyes,  that  were  lifted  to 
his,  swam  in  tears,  and  her  lips  trembled,  and  seemed  to 
struggle  to  speak.  He  took  her  hand,  bowed  over  it  re- 
spectfully, and  left  her. 

When  he  was  gone,  she  turned  her  back  upon  the  peer- 
ing eyes  of  old  Margaret,  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  cried  heartily. 

Little  wonder  she  was  unnerved.  The  reaction  from 
the  terrible  suspense  of  the  last  thirty  hours,  the  recent 
fright  and  exposure,  were  sufficient  to  account  for  her  tears, 
yet  they  had  their  source  in  part  in  other  feelings — a  half 
painful,  half  pleasurable  agitation  connected  with  the  man 
who  had  just  said  ''good  night"  as  calmly  as  if  he  had  not 
felt  that  it  was  good-by  for  ever. 

A  special,  unlooked-for  circnmstance  had  brought  them 
into  brief  association  ;  it  was  not  probable  that  any  event 
would  again  happen  that  would  justify  a  disregard  of  the 
wide  barriers  that  divided  them.  The  two  barks  had  been 
tossed  together  for  a  moment  by  a  storm,  and  it  had  been 
forgotten  that  they  bore  unfriendly  flags  ;  but  it  was  only 
for  a  moment. 

Their  brief  intercourse  had  been  outside  the  temtory  of 
society — outside  the  world  of  reality,  it  almost  seemed  to 
Adelle — in  some  dim  region  bordering  upon  dreams. 


WILD    WORK,  79 

She  thought  with  shame,  and  yet  with  a  half  guilty 
thrill  of  joy,  of  how  his  arm  had  held  her  in  the  storm. 

Yet,  if  they  should  meet  again  when  back  in  the  world, 
he  would  not  feel  it  permissible  to  recognize  her,  and  would 
she  dare  by  look  or  word  accord  him  permission  ? 

As  she  sat  with  her  face  in  her  hands,  a  touch  fell  upon 
her  arm,  and  she  turned  around  to  see  old  Margaret  hold- 
ing out  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  eying  her  with  mingled  cun- 
ning and  benevolence. 

"I  don't  want  it,  thank  you,"  Adelle  said,  motioning 
the  coffee  away. 

"  The  Cap'n  said  you  must  drink  it.  It'll  set  you  up 
after  the  scare  and  chill  you've  had.  It'll  brace  you  'ginst 
de  fever." 

She  took  the  cup  and  drained  it  of  the  clear,  strong 
contents. 

"Dere  !  I  thought  you'd  do  it,"  the  old  negress  said, 
the  mixture  of  kindness  and  malice  deepening  in  her  face. 
**  You'll  do  what  he  says.  Wliat'd  I  tell  you  ?  He  makes 
people  do  like  he  wants.  Dat's  his  poioer.  He  puts  his 
spell  on  'em.  He's  put  it  on  you.  Dat's  why  you  cry. 
You  don't  know  it ;  but  'tis.  You  feel  like  somethin's  hap- 
pened to  you." 

''What  nonsense!  I  cry  because  I  feel  unnerved  and 
tired  out,  and  because  I  am  glad  of  Derrick's  safety." 

''And  for  somethin'  else,  too.  No  need  denyin'  it. 
Cap'n  Witchell's  put  his  spell  on  you,  and  you  can't  take  it 
off.     You'll  follow  him  troo  good  and  bad." 

"  You  are  crazy.  Captain  Witchell  is  nothing  to  me. 
I  shall  never  see  or  at  least  never  speak  to  him  again.  My 
people  are  no  friends  to  him." 

"Don't  matter,"  retorted  the  old  negress,  sagely,  nod- 
ding her  head.  "It's  like  I  tell  you.  You'll  fix  your 
eyes  and  your  heart  on  him,  and  he's  got  his'n  fixed  yonder 


80  WILD    WORK. 

ahead  on  chists  of  greenbacks  and  silver,  and  crowns  of 
gold,  and  he'll  push  on  after  'em  and  forgit  to  look  round 
at  de  one  walkin'  at  his  side." 

*' You  old  goose  !"  Adelle  said,  trying  to  laugh  off  the 
uncanny  feeling  that  came  oyer  her  as  she  watched  old 
Margaret  peer  into  the  fire  with  her  small,  keen  eyes, 
while  her  skinny  finger  pointed  forward  as  if  at  some  sight 
she  alone  could  see.  *'  There  are  no  crowns  of  gold  to  be 
won  in  this  country." 

"  Grant,  de  big  president-gineral  wears  a  goldin  crown  ; 
I  seen  it  one  night ;  Witchell's  pushing  on  after  one  ;  gwine 
to  get  it  too,  onless,"  sinking  her  voice  to  a  mysterious 
mutter,  '^onless  his  foot  slips  up  in  blood.  Yes  ;  in  blood. 
I  saw  him  one  night  swimmin'  in  blood — a  river  of  blood, 
and  he  strugglin'  and  thro  win'  out  his  arms,  till  of  a  sudden 
dey  both  dropped  off,  and  he  went  driftin' — drif tin'  down 
de  current." 

**  Your  dreams  are  wonderful,  ti'uly." 

"  'Taint  dreams.  I  see  things — ^plain  as  I  see  you.  Do 
you  want  to  know  how  I  saw  you  last  night  ?  " 

She  craned  her  long  neck  so  as  to  bring  her  wierd  face 
close  to  the  girl's. 

*'No,"  cried  Adelle,  drawing  back.  ''I  think  there  is 
no  import  in  your  dreams  ;  but  I  do  not  care  to  hear  them. 
I  am  tired  out.  The  wind  has  died  down,  but  how  the 
rain  falls  !    I  will  try  to  sleep." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  time  of  terror  was  over  ;  the  scepter  of  the  scourge 
was  broken.  The  white  angel  of  the  frost  had  descended, 
and  the  air  was  purified  of  its  poison.     The  refugees  came 


WILD   WORK.  81 

back  ;  life  went  on  in  the  homes  from  which  the  dead  had 
been  carried — in  the  fields  and  places  that  would  know  them 
no  more.  The  yellow-feyer  time  was  looked  back  upon  as 
a  dreadful  nightmare — a  period  of  confused  horror,  too 
painful  for  thought  to  dwell  upon. 

Before  the  coming  of  the  frost,  Derrick  had  gone  to 
Mossy  Valley  to  recruit  his  strength  in  the  pure  air  and 
through  the  nursing  and  petting  he  would  be  sure  to  get 
from  his  mother  and  sister. 

He  had  lost  color  and  flesh,  but  he  bade  fair  to  get  them 
back,  for  his  appetite  was  such  as  to  delight  his  mother  and 
astonish  the  old  cook.  They  had  never  heard  at  home 
that  he  was  ill,  until  the  news  came  in  a  scrawl  in  his  own 
handwriting,  the  first  time  he  had  been  permitted  to  sit  up 
in  bed.  He  had  made  light  of  his  sickness  then,  to  prevent 
anxiety  at  home.  As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  travel  in  a 
slow,  easy  way,  the  carriage  had  been  sent  for  him  with 
enough  pillows  and  blankets  to  smother  a  dozen  young 
fellows  of  his  size,  and  with  his  father,  armed  with  camphor 
and  brandy  bottles,  to  take  care  of  him. 

Adelle's  visit  to  the  river  had  never  transpired.  Neither 
her  parents  nor  her  brother  knew  anything  of  it.  Jake  had 
kept  silent,  and  the  great  package  of  delicacies  he  had  car- 
ried back  from  Malta  to  the  sick  man  had  been  a  mysterious 
gift,  so  far  as  Derrick's  knowledge  extended.  She  had  gone 
back  to  Malta  after  leaving  the  river,  and  her  friends  there 
supposed  she  had  paid  a  short  visit  to  her  parents,  and  won- 
dered somewhat,  when,  only  the  next  day,  the  Holman 
family  carriage  came  to  convey  her  home. 

When,  upon  the  first  evening  of  Derrick's  arrival  at 
home,  as  he  sat  in  the  big  chintz-cushioned  invalid's  chair, 
sipping  his  wine  negus,  he  detailed  to  his  attentive  listeners 
all  he  could  remember  of  his  illness,  Adelle  discovered 
that  the  doctor  and  the  negroes  had  kept  Witchell's  secret. 


82  WILD    WORK. 

Derrick  knew  nothing  of  his  having  been  attended,  during 
the  most  critical  period  of  the  fever,  by  the  man  whom  he 
hated. 

Several  times  afterward,  the  revelation,  coupled  with  re- 
proof, came  near  bursting  from  her  lips.  It  was  when  she 
had  heard  her  brother  join  his  father  and  Lanier  in  denounc- 
ing Witchell  as  a  heartless,  unscrupulous  scoundrel — an 
adventurer,  who  cared  for  nothing  so  that  he  mounted  to 
wealth  and  station  over  the  prostrate  rights  of  the  people. 

Such  denunciations  of  the  Radical  leader  were  more 
than  usually  frequent  and  severe  at  present,  for  Witchell's 
name  was  before  the  people  as  candidate  for  the  office  of 
State  Senator,  with  almost  certainty  of  election,  taking  in 
account  his  power  with  his  own  party  and  his  popularity 
with  the  negroes  and  ''poor  whites,"  together  with  the 
opportunities  for  controlling  elections  possessed  by  the 
*'  Carpet-bag  Ring,"  who  managed  the  registration  of  voters, 
the  balloting  at  the  polls,  and  the  counting  of  the  returns. 

The  bitter  feeling  against  the  "Ring"  had  increased 
among  the  more  aristocratic  of  the  people.  There  was  a 
class  who,  with  an  eye  to  favor  or  protection,  openly  courted 
the  ruling  powers,  and  were  ostracized  from  their  own  set 
in  consequence ;  and  yet  another  class,  who  truckled  to 
them,  but  in  a  sneaking  way — obsequious  to  officiousness 
when  they  could  be  so  on  the  sly,  but  joining  with  the  ene- 
mies of  the  ''carpet-baggers"  in  abuse  of  them  behind 
their  backs. 

It  was  a  stirring  time  with  Witchell,  this  eve  of  his  elec- 
tion and  of  his  removal  to  his  new  home,  around  which  he 
purposed  should  gather  so  many  lucrative  interests,  so 
many  important  industries — the  building  up  of  a  town, 
the  conducting  of  a  paper  that  should  absorb  the  public 
printing  of  that  section,  the  erection  of  a  factory,  the  es- 
tablishment around  him  of  his  relations  and  connections 


WILD    WORK.  83 

from  the  North,  who  should  hold  various  offices,  obtained 
through  his  influence,  and  who  should  repay  him  by  work- 
ing for  his  interests  and  playing  into  his  hand. 

He  carried  these  schemes,  and  other  plans  to  which 
these  were  only  preliminary,  in  his  busy  brain,  as  he  went 
to  and  from  the  new  plantation  he  would  settle  upon  in  a 
few  months,  and  as  he  rode  over  the  country,  strengthen- 
ing his  interests  here  and  there,  organizing  Loyal  Leagues, 
popularizing  himself  with  the  laboring  class,  who,  having 
had  fewer  interests  sacrificed  by  the  recent  change  in  afPairs 
(they  had  called  the  Southern  rebellion  a  rich  man's  war 
and  a  poor  man's  fight),  were  far  less  bitter  against  the  new 
regime.  He  kept  meanwhile  a  keen  lookout  for  openings 
to  make  money — speculations  that  promised  well,  estates 
forfeited  for  taxes,  that  he  might  buy  up  cheaply  and  settle 
his  allies  upon  ;  fine  landed  properties  that  might  fall  into 
his  hands  by  a  mortgage ;  or  else  their  owners'  influence 
might  be  secured  in  his  favor  by  indulgence  granted  them. 
There  were  plenty  such  embarrassed  estate-owners  through- 
out a  country  that  was  groaning  under  heavy  taxes  and 
under  the  difficulty  of  controlling  negro  labor. 

Occupied  with  these  plans  and  cares,  it  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  the  Eadical  leader  had  given  many  thoughts  to 
the  girl  he  had  parted  with  in  the  old  cabin  that  stormy 
night,  not  quite  two  months  ago.  Adelle  had  seen  him  but 
seldom  since  her  return  to  Malta,  and  she  had  met  him  face 
to  face  but  once  ;  then  he  had  ridden  on  without  turning 
his  eyes  in  her  direction,  or  seeming  aware  of  her  presence. 

She  was  vexed  with  herself  at  the  pang  of  disappoint- 
ment that  went  to  her  heart,  and  at  the  consolation  she 
drew  from  the  after- thought  that  the  reason  he  did  not  speak 
might  have  been  the  fear  of  putting  her  in  an  unpleasant 
position.  There  were  others  with  her,  and,  if  he  had  given 
her  a  recognizing  bow,  and  she  had  acknowledged  the  atten- 


81  WILD    WORK. 

tion,  her  friends  would  have  been  shocked  at  finding  her 
acquainted  with  him,  and  annoyed  her  with  questions.  He 
must  have  noted  the  haughty,  averted  face  of  the  tall 
woman  walking  with  her — dressed  in  mourning  still  for  the 
boy-lover  who  had  been  killed  nine  years  ago  in  one  of  the 
last  struggles  of  the  Southern  Confederacy ;  and  he  could 
have  overheard  the  sneering  remark  of  the  gay  girl  who 
walked  ahead,  trailing  behind  her  the  coral-berry  vine  she 
held: 

*^  Yonder  comes  the  R.  E.  R."  (Radical  Rogue  and 
Ringleader)  she  exclaimed,  "  mounted  on  a  horse  that  is  by 
far  the  better-looking  animal  of  the  two  ;  "  and  the  response 
of  her  companion  : 

"  Wonder  where  he  stole  it?"  as  she  tossed  up  her  little 
nose. 

AVhen  such  remarks  as  these  were  made  in  her  presence, 
Adelle  always  felt  a  quick  fear  lest  somebody  would  notice 
the  effect  they  produced  on  her.  She  could  not  keep  the 
flash  from  her  eyes,  nor  the  wounded  blood  from  mounting 
into  her  cheeks.  Yet  she  had  never  owned  to  herself  that 
she  loved  this  man.  The  most  she  had  confessed  to  her 
heart  was  that  she  felt  a  pity  for  him  in  his  isolated,  ostra- 
cized position,  and  that  she  admired  his  courage  and  persist- 
ence in  facing  dangers  and  difiSculties,  and  keeping  calmly 
in  pursuit  of  his  purpose. 

Yet  the  hope  of  seeing  him  had  been,  half-unconsciously 
to  herself,  the  motive  of  her  return  to  Malta.  In  her  se- 
cluded home  at  Mossy  Valley,  in  her  twilight  dreams  in  the 
old  honeysuckle  arbor,  and  her  solitary  walks  through  the 
Indian-summer  woods,  she  had  thought  of  him  continually. 
She  had  woven  around  his  image  the  passion  and  romance 
of  her  fervid  nature.  The  abuse  she  heard  of  him  on  every 
hand  could  not  impair  this  secret  worship.  It  only  deep- 
ened the  pity  that  was  a  strong  element  of  her  love. 


WILD    WORK.  85 

The  necessity  of  concealment  was  another  circumstance 
that  wrought  through  her  imagination  upon  her  heart. 
Their  short,  unsuspected  association — what  a  charm  secrecy 
gave  to  it  ! — what  a  wild,  sweet  spell  it  cast  over  her  recol- 
lection of  those  days  upon  the  river  !  She  dared  not  speak 
his  name  aloud ;  she  breathed  it  the  oftener  to  her  own 
heart. 

She  had  kept  all  the  little  notes  he  had  written  her  on 
the  river — those  brief  bulletins  of  her  brother's  condition, 
penciled  on  torn-out  leaves  of  Witchell's  pocket  note-book. 
She  had  received  one  more  soon  after  her  return  home.  A 
negro,  belonging  in  the  neighborhood,  had  ridden  up  one 
afternoon  and  handed  her  an  envelope,  on  which  she  instant- 
ly recognized  Captain  Witchell's  peculiar  handwriting.  The 
negro  had  refused  to  give  the  missive  into  any  other  hands 
than  hers,  a  circumstance  which  excited  the  jealous  sus- 
picion of  Lanier.  He  was  present,  and  watched  her  cov- 
ertly as  she  received  the  letter,  and  saw  that  she  blushed 
deeply  and  turned  away  to  hide  her  emotion  as  she  read  it. 
It  contained  only  these  few  lines  : 

*'  I  have  just  shaken  hands  with  Dr.  M .     He  reports 

our  patient  out  of  danger,  and  fast  getting  well.  As  a 
negro  from  your  neighborhood  is  here,  I  take  occasion  to 
send  you  the  Doctor's  good  report." 

Lanier  insisted  on  knowing  who  had  written  the  letter, 
and  grew  angry  because  she  refused  to  tell  him,  declaring 
his  determination  to  find  out.  He  was  sullen  for  days  after- 
ward, but  presently  Derrick  came  home,  and  the  cloud 
seemed  to  pass  away. 

The  intercourse  of  the  tacitly  engaged  pair  was  much 
pleasanter  when  Derrick  was  with  them  than  when  they 
were  by  themselves.  His  presence  checked  the  angry 
doubts,  the  passionate  declarations,  and  above  all  the  search- 
ing questions  that  poor  Adelle  could  not  ans '  ■  r  as  her  lover 


86  WILD    WORK. 

desired.  As  soon  as  frost  came,  and  Derrick  returned  to 
the  river,  she  went  with  him  as  far  as  Malta,  where  her 
school  had  already  reopened. 

Once  more  in  her  little  room  upstairs,  she  turned  her 
eyes  first  of  all  to  that  apartment  in  the  next  house  which 
could  be  seen  from  her  west  window.  But  the  blinds  were 
closed.  Captain  AYitchell  came  now  but  seldom  to  Malta. 
He  was  often  absent  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  and 
he  spent  days  at  his  place  on  the  Lake,  which  he  had  sold, 
but  would  not  give  up  until  the  end  of  the  year. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

It  was  a  festive  evening  at  Malta.  The  town-hall  was 
wreathed  in  evergreens,  its  central  chandelier  ablaze,  and  a 
stage  erected  at  one  end.  The  hall  was  crowded  with  the 
citizens  and  neighborhood  people,  who  had  come  to  witness 
a  school  exhibition,  postponed  since  last  summer,  and  to 
enjoy  afterward  a  supper  furnished  by  the  Academy  patrons, 
and  an  hour  or  two  of  social  intercourse  ;  or,  as  the  printed 
programme  expressed  it,  "a  varied  entertainment,  by  the 
young  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  Academy,  comprising 
recitations,  dialogues,  charades,  speeches,  tableaux,  and  a 
Political  Satire,  written  by  one  of  our  cleverest  lawyers, 
all  interspersed  with  instrumental  and  vocal  music.  After- 
ward, an  elegant  banquet,  prepared  by  our  fair  townswomen, 
and  a  social  reunion." 

Adelle  had  helped  to  conduct  the  rehearsals  of  the  pieces 
comprising  the  stage  entertainment,  and  she  trusted  that 
Witchell  might  not  be  here  to  listen  to  them.  Several  of 
the  original  recitations  and  dialogues  contained  references 
to  the  wrongs  of  the  people  and  the  outrages  of  carpet- 


WILD    WORE.  87 

baggers,  while  the  satire  was  a  rather  clumsily  written  but 
scathing  lampoon  upon  Witchell  and  Devene — their  names 
slightly  disguised,  but  the  allusions  too  pointed  to  be  mis- 
taken. Witchell,  styled  the  Prince  of  Appropriationists, 
was  held  up  to  public  hate  as  a  creature  without  a  con- 
science— a  political  yampire,  fattened  by  the  blood  of  the 
people. 

When  Adelle  had  heard  this  rehearsed  in  the  summer,  it 
had  grated  on  her  feelings ;  how  much  more  did  it  do  so 
now,  when  her  heart  had  gone  out  to  the  man  it  lampooned, 
and  every  word  spoken  against  him  hurt  her  like  a  blow  ! 

"  Thank  Heaven,  he  is  not  here,"  she  said  to  herself  as 
she  looked  out  over  the  audience  from  an  aperture  in  one  of 
the  little  apartments  curtained  off  at  each  end  of  the  stage 
as  dressing-rooms.  But  on  looking  once  more,  in  the  middle 
of  the  performance  of  the  lampoon,  she  saw  him.  He  oc- 
cupied a  position  at  the  very  back  of  the  hall,  standing — for 
there  was  scarcity  of  seats — with  his  back  against  the  wall, 
his  straight  figure  and  leonine  head  calmly  erect,  as  though 
he  were  not  the  target  of  the  sneering  looks  and  hisses  of 
the  more  reckless  among  the  audience,  excited  by  the  piece 
that  was  being  acted. 

His  steely  blue  eyes  beat  back  the  stare  of  the  people 
with  cold,  proud  patience  ;  his  set  mouth,  his  folded  arms, 
his  whole  attitude,  spoke  eloquently,  not  of  vulgar  defiance 
or  self-assertion,  but  of  a  purpose  that  might  not  be  shaken, 
and  of  calm,  half-sad  endurance. 

Adelle,  whose  nature  was  given  to  idealizing,  and  whose 
solitary,  brooding  fancy  had  surrounded  the  man  with  such 
a  glamour  that  she  saw  only  his  virtues — Adelle,  looking  at 
him  as  he  stood  there  listening  to  the  abuse  from  the  stage, 
and  feeling  the  many  unfriendly  eyes  turned  upon  him, 
thought  of  a  picture  she  had  seen  of  Christ  standing  calm 
and  thorn-crowned  among  the  mocking  multitude. 


88  WILD    WORK. 

While  this  passion  of  indignant  pity  was  upon  her,  it 
came  her  time  to  sing.  She  went  out,  and,  controlling  her- 
self by  an  effort,  gave  the  opera  selection  named  upon  the 
programme,  and,  being  encored,  touched  the  keys  of  the 
piano,  and  sang  that  old  tender  melody  of  the  Irish  bard, 
'^  The  Stricken  Deer."  Never  was  more  fervor  given  to 
the  impassioned  words, 

"  I  know  not,  I  ask  not,  if  guilt's  in  that  heart, 
I  but  know  that  I  love  thee,  whatever  thou  art." 

She  trembled  and  blushed  at  her  own  earnestness — at 
the  passionate  impulse  that  had  carried  her  away.  She  felt 
almost  as  if  she  had  addressed  the  words  to  Captain  Witchell 
himself.  She  dared  not  send  one  glance  at  him  to  see  the 
effect  of  her  song.  In  the  midst  of  the  applause  she  arose 
and  quitted  the  stage. 

Witchell  had  been  on  the  point  of  going  as  she  came  out 
to  sing  her  first  song.  Devene,  who  had  a  seat  in  the  win- 
dow close  to  where  he  stood,  had  touched  his  arm,  saying: 

'^  Come,  we  have  had  enough  of  this,  don't  you  think  ? 
I've  stood  it  'till  I'm  boiling  over,  while  you  look  as  cool  as 
Diogenes  in  his  tub.     Let's  go." 

"  Stop,"  Witchell  whispered,  for  Adelle  Holman  had 
taken  her  seat  at  the  piano,  her  sweet  face  pale  except  for 
the  pink  flush  slowly  spreading  in  her  cheeks. 

Her  beautiful  arms  and  shoulders  shone  like  polished 
ivory  through  the  transparent  white  material  of  her  dress. 
He  had  a  sudden,  vivid  sense  of  having  encircled  that  fair 
form  with  his  arms,  of  having  wrapped  it  in  his  coat  for 
protection  from  the  storm,  of  her  having  clung  to  him  like 
a  child  in  her  terror. 

When  she  began  to  sing  again  in  answer  to  the  encore, 
and  to  interpret  the  poet's  words  in  such  impassioned  strains, 
he  listened  absorbed,  and  his  cold  face  thawed. 


WILD    WORK.  89 

Devene,  leaning  toward  him,  whispered: 

*^She  sings  that  mng.con  amove ;  I'll  be  hanged  if  she 
don't.  The  little  girl  has  likely  got  a  sweetheart  that's  not 
in  the  church — a  naughty  fellow  that  she's  fond  of,  and  her 
pa  objects  to." 

Witchell  frowned,  and  when  Devene  said,  *^  That's  about 
the  last,  I  believe.  Will  you  go  now  ? "  he  answered, 
"  Not  yet.  Don't  wait  for  me."  And  Devene  went  away, 
wondering  what  had  come  over  his  chief,  that  he  should 
take  the  whim  to  stay  to  the  '*  reunion,"  after  he  had  ex- 
pressly declared  he  would  not ;  that  he  only  went  to  hear 
the  "  satire  "  and  its  strictures  upon  himself. 

'^I  want  to  show  my  good  friends  that  I  can  listen  to 
their  compliments  without  blushing,"  he  had  said,  laughing 
in  his  quietly  cjnical  way. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Adelle  thought  Captain  Witchell  had  gone  away  after 
the  performance.  She  saw  nothing  of  him  in  the  crowd, 
nor  of  Lanier  and  Derrick,  who  had  promised  to  be  there. 
But  she  did  not  lack  admirers  in  \\qy  fiance's  absence.  She 
had  just  left  the  refreshment  room,  and  returning  to  the 
hall  had  missed  her  fan,  and  her  attendant  had  gone  back 
to  hunt  for  it,  when  she  caught  sight  of  Captain  Witchell 
not  far  from  her. 

He  was  sitting  in  the  recess  of  a  window,  apart  from 
the  stream  of  promenaders  and  groups  of  talkers.  He  had 
a  little  girl  on  his  knee  whom  he  had  lured  to  him  with  the 
present  of  an  orange.  He  had  peeled  the  fruit  and  was 
breaking  it  apart,  listening  to  her  prattle  with  evident 
amusement,  when  a  larger  girl — a  sister  of  the  other,  from 


90  yVILD    WORK. 

the  likeness  between  the  two — came  looking  here  and  there 
for  the  little  one,  and  spying  her  called  to  her  sharply. 

The  child  slid  from  Captain  Witchell's  knee  and  joined 
her  sister,  who,  snatching  her  hand,  said  crossly  : 

**  Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  talking  to  that  maji? 
That's  Captain  Witchell.  Ma  will  give  it  to  you  for  sitting 
in  his  lap." 

He  overheard  the  remark.  Adelle  saw  his  moustached 
lip  twitch  ;  then  he  raised  his  head  with  that  slight,  bitter- 
sad  smile  she  had  seen  twice  before.  His  eyes  met  her 
own,  and  the  color  rushed  to  his  face.  He  knew  that  she, 
too,  had  overheard  the  words  so  smarting  from  a  child's 
lips.  Obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  she  walked  straight  to 
him,  and  held  out  her  hand.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her 
what  she  should  say  to  him,  and  she  uttered  confusedly  : 

"Captain  Witchell,  I  hardly  expected  to  see  you  here. 
You  look  lonely.     Why  are  you  not  amusing  yourself  ?  " 

"I  have  been  entertained,"  he  answered. 

He  had  looked  surprised  that  she  should  speak  to  him  ; 
but  he  took  her  hand,  and  the  slight  pressure  he  gave  it 
showed  that  he  appreciated  her  notice. 

"  How  must  I  amuse  myself  ?  " 

"  Oh,  by  going  to  supper  or  promenading,  I  sup- 
pose." 

She  was  only  intent  on  saying  something,  that  the  at- 
tention might  soothe  the  wound  his  feelings  had  received. 

"  The  supper  I  don't  want,  and  the  promenading — who 
would  be  my  partner  ?  Even  the  babies  are  punished  for 
smiling  on  me,  you  see." 

^- Will  I  do  for  a  partner?" 

"You  ?  Are  you  sure  you  would  not  be  punished? 
Look  at  those  horrified  eyes  turning  toward  you  already." 

"  Let  them.  Captain  Witchell,  will  you  promenade  with 
me?" 


WILD    WOIiK  91 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  second  without  answering ;  then 
he  said : 

*'  It  was  for  your  sake  I  hesitated.  Nothing  conld  give 
me  more  pleasure,"  and  he  drew  her  little  hand,  trembling 
through  its  glove,  within  his  arm. 

But  it  was  too  trying — that  ordeal.  To  walk  around 
the  lighted  room,  the  cynosure  of  all  those  amazed  and 
scornfully  disapproving  eyes.  She  felt  faint  and  sick  un- 
der them. 

*^Let  us  go  out  on  the  piazza,"  she  murmured. 

But  there,  too,  were  promenaders.  She  glanced  outside 
at  the  graveled  walk  a  step  below.  The  moonlight  flung 
the  shadows  of  the  cedars  across  it ;  the  air  was  soft  as  in 
May. 

*^  Shall  we  go  outside  ?  " 

Her  look  answered  him  ;  he  took  the  light  shawl  that 
hung  on  her  arm,  and  folded  it  around  her.  The  next 
moment,  the  moon  was  tracing  their  shadows  together  on 
the  white  sandy  space.  They  walked  up  and  down  without 
interchanging  a  word.     Then  Captain  Witchell  said  : 

**  The  last  time  I  saw  you,  the  scene  was  quite  different 
from  this.  Margaret's  old  cabin — you  in  my  wet  coat  in 
tlie  big  poplar  chair,  I  on  my  knees  before  you,  kindling 
the  fire  for  your  coffee.  Have  you  ever  thought  about  the 
queer  picture  ?  " 

"I  have  thought  of  it  often,  thought  of  everything 
that  happened  then.  But  that  was  not  the  last  time  I 
saw  you.  I  met  you  once  here  in  town — and  you  did  not 
speak. " 

"  But  you  knew  the  reason  why  I  did  not  ?  You  knew 
I  feared  to  subject  you  to  ill-natured  remarks  on  my  ac- 
count, as,  alas  !  I  am  doing  to-night.  Besides,  I  thought, 
if  I  spoke,  that  you  would  not  speak  to  me  in  return. 

^*  You  thought  that  ?    You  thought  that,  after  all  you 


92  WILD    WORK. 

have  done  for  me,  I  would  refuse  to  speak  to  you  because 
others  who  were  present  would  blame  me  ?  Never.  If  all 
the  world  should  turn  against  you  and  speak  evil  of  you, 
I  will  believe  in  you,  honor  you,  be  your  friend." 

The  girl  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  fervor  with 
which  she  spoke,  but  her  looks  and  tones  were  a  revelation 
to  Captain  Witchell.  He  stopped  still,  and  looked  down 
at  her  eyes  lifted  to  his,  at  her  hand  she  had  laid  on  his 
in  her  earnestness.  He  read  her  secret  then  ;  he  knew  that 
this  little,  pure-minded,  country-reared  girl  loved  him,  the 
world-stained  man,  with  a  fervor  that  consumed  the  bar- 
riers of  prejudice  and  pride.  He  knew  that  the  passion  in 
the  song  she  had  sung  to-night  was  for  him. 

Did  the  knowledge  give  him  more  pain  or  pleasure  ? 
It  was  hard  to  tell.  Pleasure  came  first — the  throb  of  joy 
that  the  consciousness  of  being  loved  always  brings.  It 
was  followed  by  something  like  a  pang  at  the  thought  of 
such  love  being  lavished — wasted,  it  seemed — upon  him — 
upon  one  who  could  give  no  fit  return.  She  had  cherished 
his  image  all  this  while,  and  he,  with  his  mind  busy  with 
schemes  of  personal  advancement,  had  thought  of  her  only 
casually,  as  one  remembers  the  scent  or  sight  of  a  flower 
he  has  seen  as  he  hurried  along  the  dusty  highway. 

He  had  no  fresh  feelings  to  match  with  hers.  Once, 
years  ago,  he  had  held  a  fair  woman  to  his  breast,  and 
thought  nothing  could  come  between  them.  But  time  and 
absence  brought  change  and  estrangement.  She  grew  tired 
of  waiting  for  the  ambitious  boy  to  accomplish  what  he  had 
planned.  She  married  a  wealthier  suitor.  In  the  hour 
that  he  heard  of  it,  a  change  came  over  him.  He  hardened 
his  heart  against  women's  attractions  ;  he  paid  no  court  to 
them  ;  his  life  was  filled  with  other  things,  with  the  hopes 
and  efforts,  the  disappointments  and  successes  of  a  man 
who  struggles  up  from  obscurity  and  poverty.     And  now. 


WILD   WORK.  93 

just  as  he  was  nerved  and  stripped  for  the  goal  that  seemed 
at  last  in  his  sight,  the  flower  he  had  ceased  to  hope  or  care 
for  was  flung  in  his  path.  Should  he  take  it  up  ?  Was 
there  room  in  his  heart  to  shelter  it  ?  Had  he  time  to 
caress  it  ?  "Would  it  be  right  for  the  flower's  sake  ? 
Should  he  ask  this  girl  to  turn  her  back  upon  her  parents 
and  relatives — upon  all  her  friends  for  him  ?  Would  she  ? 
Yes  ;  her  face  spoke  for  her,  but  should  he  accept  the  sacri- 
fice ?  Should  he  break  up  the  sweet  peace  of  her  life, 
bring  into  it  dissension,  separation  from  all  dear  ties  and 
old  associations  ?  No  ;  he  determined  no.  He  would  do 
nothing  to  encourage  this  impulse  of  affection.  But  her 
sympathy  was  balm  to  him.  Looking  with  grave  kindli- 
ness into  her  face,  he  raised  to  his  lips  the  hand  she  had 
impulsively  laid  upon  his. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said.  '^  I  accept  your  friendship  as 
frankly  as  you  have  offered  it.  I  shall  never  forget  your 
brave  kindness  to-night — you  shall  see — " 

His  words  were  cut  short  by  the  sound  of  excited  steps 
behind.     Two  men  were  hurriedly  approaching. 

"  Scoundrel  ! "  cried  Derrick  Holman's  voice,  as  he 
rushed  upon  them.  "  Cursed  Radical  dog,  how  dare  you 
touch  my  sister ;  how  dare  you  speak  to  her  ?  " 

Grasping  his  sister's  shoulder,  he  dashed  her  aside,  and 
faced  Witchell,  his  teeth  set,  his  eyes  blazing.  His  clinched 
hand  was  upraised  to  strike,  but  Adelle  flung  herself  be- 
tween him  and  Witchell.  She  caught  the  descending  arm, 
she  clutched  it,  and  held  it  with  all  the  strength  of  both  her 
hands. 

" He  did  not  speak  to  me  first,"  she  said ;  ''I  spoke 
to  him.  I  asked  him  to  walk  with  me.  He  has  done 
nothing." 

'^  You  asked  him  to  write  you  letters,  too,  did  you  ?  and 
send  them  by  his  negro  allies  ?    Let  go  my  arm,  Adelle  ;  you 


94  TT7ZZ>    WOBE. 

have  disgi'aced  yourself  and  me  enough.  Let  me  go,  or  I 
will  strike  you  down." 

**  Do  so.  Make  a  scene  here,  and  draw  a  crowd  around 
us.  Break  up  this  peaceful  assembly  with  a  disgraceful 
scuffle.  Proceed,  you  and  Lanier,  in  your  fisticuff  exhibi- 
tion. You  will  soon  draw  all  these  negroes  into  the  enter- 
tainment, and  get  taken  to  the  lock-up.  Yonder  are  a 
dozen  ladies  looking  on  from  the  gallery.  Have  you  no 
regard  for  their  presence ;  none  for  me,  or  yourself,  or  for 
common  decency  ?  " 

Her  stinging  words  had  the  desired  effect.  Derrick's 
face  lost  a  portion  of  its  fierce  determination.  He  wrenched 
his  arm  loose  from  her  at  last,  and  roughly  pushed  her 
away.     To  Lanier  he  said  : 

**  Stand  back.  I  told  you  not  to  interfere  unless  I  called 
you.  It  was  my  place  to  thrash  this  scoundrel  for  his  im- 
pudence. A  horsewhip,  if  I  had  it,  would  do  the  business, 
but  I  don't  care  to  mix  myself  with  his  nigger  friends  in  a 
scuffle,  and  with  women  looking  on.  I'll  have  it  out  with 
him  in  another  way.  Witchell,  you  are  not  worth  fighting 
a  fair  fight  with,  but,  as  my  sister  has  given  you  her  society, 
I  may  as  well  extend  the  family  condescension.  I  challenge 
you  to  fight  with  me  to-morrow,  at  what  hour  and  with 
such  weapons  as  you  may  choose." 

"I  will  not  fight  you,  Mr.  Holman." 

**  You  are  a  coward,  then." 

'*  I  am  no  coward,  but  I  will  not  risk  my  life  in  a  fool- 
ish encounter.  And,  besides,  I  honor  your  sister,  and  I 
will  not  injure  her  by  trying  to  kill  her  brother  or  to  make 
him  a  murderer." 

"You  refuse,  then,  to  fight  with  me  ?" 

"I  do." 

*'It's  a  d cowardly  subterfuge,"  burst  in  Lanier, 

whom  Derrick  had,  with  difficulty,  restrained;  "you  can 


WILD    WOUK  95 

have  no  such  excuse  in  my  case.  I  am  not  the  brother  of 
this  young  lady,  that  you  have  such  high  consideration  for. 
You  shall  fight  me,  or  I'll  tear  your  Yankee  heart  out." 

Exasperated  by  the  cool,  contemptuous  eye  that  Wit- 
chell  turned  upon  him,  he  sprang  at  the  officer  like  a  cat, 
aiming  to  seize  his  throat.  Throwing  himself  back  to  avoid 
the  shock.  Captain  Witchell  caught  his  assailant's  arm  in  his 
powerful  grasj),  and,  seizing  his  shoulder  with  the  other 
hand,  hurled  him  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  stunned  and 
senseless. 

Several  men,  who  from  their  stand  on  the  piazza  had 
had  their  attention  drawn  to  what  seemed  a  dispute  bidding 
fair  to  come  to  blows,  now  rushed  toward  the  group,  and 
the  negroes  hanging  around  the  building  came  running  up 
excitedly,  one  of  the  foremost  flourishing  a  pistol  and  cry- 
ing out,  "  Here,  Captain  !  here  !" 

*'  Put  it  up  instantly  ! "  called  Witchell.  "  Go  back  and 
keep  quiet,  all  of  you." 

He  turned  and  strode  from  the  spot,  till  reaching  his 
horse,  that  was  fastened  not  far  off,  he  mounted  and  rode 
leisurely  away. 

Lanier  was  only  stunned.  He  raised  himself  on  his 
elbow,  glared  around,  and  then  leaped  to  his  feet. 

''Where  is  he  ?  I'll  follow  him.  I'll  have  his  life  for 
this.  Let  me  go,"  he  cried  to  Derrick,  who  had  hold  of 
him.  But  others  closed  around  him,  and  he  was  restrained 
until  his  anger  had  partly  vented  itself  in  curses,  and  he 
was  cool  enough  to  listen  to  Derrick's  advice  not  to  make  a 
fool  of  himself ;  that  to  follow  Witcliell  was  useless ;  he 
would  be  sure  to  have  his  adherents,  white  and  black,  close 
at  his  heels  ;  "  and  you'd  have  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  life 
behind  a  jail-window,  my  boy.  No  doubt,  I'll  have  a  black 
mark  of  remembrance  set  down  against  me  for  this.  One 
can't  resent  a  personal  affront  from  one  of  these  fellows, 


96  WILD    WORK. 

without  being  punislicd  for  it  as  a  political  offense.  I  am 
sorry  I  was  so  hasty,  for  my  sister's  sake,"  he  went  on,  going 
up  to  her  and  drawing  her  trembling  arm  through  his.  *'  I 
don't  blame  her.  Witchell  forced  himself  upon  her,  I  am 
sure.  He  happened  to  render  her  an  important  service  not 
long  ago,  and  now  he  presumes  upon  her  gratitude  and  her 
womanish  dislike  to  hurt  feelings.  Adelle,  shall  we  go  back 
into  the  hall,  or  would  you  not  like  better  to  be  taken 
home  ?  Your  nerves  are  shaken,  you  are  trembling,  poor 
little  girl !  Come,  let's  go  home.  Lanier,  wait  here  for 
me.     I  want  to  see  you  again  to-night." 

Adelle  knew  by  the  look  in  her  brother's  eye  that  this 
affectionate  address  and  this  exoneration  of  her  from  blame 
were  all  for  a  blind.  They  were  to  keep  down  gossip ;  for, 
unlike  his  reckless  comrade  Lanier,  he  had  regard  for  ap- 
pearances, and  he  smarted  under  the  thought  of  his  sister's 
name  being  spoken  in  any  connection  lowering  to  the  family 
pride.  This  feeling  made  him  hate  Witchell  still  more,  and 
he  reproached  Adelle  savagely  as  they  walked  to  her  board- 
ing-house. 

^*  You  shall  stay  here  no  longer ;  I  will  take  you  home 
to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"I  have  done  nothing  wrong.  I  will  not  go,"  Adelle 
answered,  pride  restraining  her  tears. 

"You  have  ruined  yourself.  This  town  will  be  a-buzz 
with  your  name  in  connection  with  Witchell's.  Haven't  you 
sense  enough  to  see  what  a  humiliation  that  is  ?  " 

•a  don't  feel  it  so." 
"No ;  and  you  don't  feel  what  a  blow  it  will  be  to  my 
father,  do  you  ?  How  disgraced  he  will  feel  to  find  that 
you  have  been  receiving  letters  from  AVitchell  (Lanier  found 
it  out),  and  walking  publicly  with  him — a  man  known  to 
have  insulted  your  father,  and  done  a  thousand  dishonor- 
able things  besides.     My  poor  father  ! " 


WILD   WORK,  97 

That  strain  touched  Adelle  instantly.  She  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  her  father  looking  at  her  in  anger. 

''I  will  go  with  Derrick  to-morrow,"  she  said  to  herself  ; 
''  I  will  be  the  first  to  tell  my  father  ;  I  will  tell  him  every- 
thing, and  he  will  know  that  Captain  Witchell  is  not  the 
heartless  being  he  thinks  him  now." 


CHAPTER  X. 


But,  when  Adelle  reached  home  the  next  day,  the  story 
had  already  been  told.  Lanier's  horse  stood  before  the  gate. 
No  one  came  out  to  meet  her  except  Nero,  the  old  dog  that 
Captain  Witchell  had  protected.  The  servant  she  met  in 
the  hall  looked  at  her  in  a  shy,  troubled  way  as  she  said  : 

''They're  all  in  your  ma's  room.  Miss  Dell." 

She  found  her  mother  in  tears,  Lanier  leaning  against 
the  chimney-piece,  a  dark  scowl  upon  his  face,  her  father 
walking  the  floor,  his  heavy  tread  and  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back  betokening  unusual  discomposure. 

She  went  to  him  and  embraced  him,  but  he  did  not 
return  the  caress.  He  put  her  back  from  him,  and  looked 
at  her  sternly. 

"You  have  been  forgetting  whose  daughter  you  are. 
You  have  forgotten  that  your  mother  is  a  gentlewoman  and 
your  father  an  honest  white  man.  You  have  been  consort- 
ing with  an  insulter  and  robber  of  your  people.  Girl,  I 
did  not  look  for  such  a  mortification  to  come  from  you." 

He  turned  from  her,  but  she  clung  to  him. 

''Listen  to  me,  father,  listen  to  me,  mother,"  she  said, 
and  she  repeated  the  story  of  her  rescue  from  the  flat. 
She  told  what  she  had  overheard  Derrick  say  of  Captain 
Witchell's  interference  to  prevent  the  negroes,  at  the  insti- 


98  WILD    WORK. 

gation  of  the  bully  Yent,  from  falling  upon  the  handful  of 
rioters,  among  them  Derrick  and  Lanier,  who  had  come  to 
break  up  the  meeting  of  the  Loyal  League.  She  told  even 
of  WitchelFs  kindness  to  old  Nero,  and  she  hinted  at  a  yet 
greater  service  he  had  done  for  Derrick,  for  them  all,  which 
she  was  not  yet  permitted  to  speak  of.  When  they  knew 
this,  they  would  feel  that  Captain  Witchell's  magnanimity 
was  not  mere  impulse.  Did  they  not  know  of  his  kindness 
to  poor  people,  and  why  should  all  those  good  acts  be  ignored 
and  the  man  branded  so  mercilessly  ?  Then  she  told  of  the 
unsparing  lampoon  directed  against  him,  which  he  had 
listened  to  at  the  exhibition,  and  of  the  child's  words  that 
had  hurt  him  so. 

As  she  talked  with  one  arm  around  her  father's  neck, 
and  her  face  close  to  his,  his  expression  changed,  his  look 
grew  softer. 

*'  Tut,  child,"  he  said,  "  don't  talk  to  me  of  Witchell's 
magnanimity.  Cold-blooded  policy,  every  bit  of  it.  He 
wants  to  make  himself  as  strong  as  he  can.  Every  dime  he 
spends  on  the  poor  is  a  seed  planted,  from  which  he  expects 
a  harvest  of  good  for  himself.  But  I  see  you  have  not  been 
so  much  to  blame  as  I  thought.  It  was  only  that  soft,  piti- 
ful little  heart  that  was  in  the  wrong.  You  were  grateful 
to  him,  and  sorry  for  him.  It  was  weakness  ;  I  looked  for 
more  firmness  and  consistency  from  you.  But  you  will  be 
more  guarded  in  future ;  you  have  now  done  enough,  and 
more  than  enough,  to  satisfy  your  idea  of  gratitude.  You 
will  not  allow  him  to  speak  to  you  again,  I  am  sure." 

It  was  half  an  assertion,  half  a  question,  and  his  eyes 
looked  searchingly  into  his  daughter's.  But  she  said  low, 
yet  with  firmness  : 

'*  Father,  I  shall  never  refuse  to  speak  to  Captain  Wit- 
chell.  I  shall  always  esteem  him ;  I  shall  always  be  his 
friend." 


WILD    WORK.  99 

'^  Say  at  once  that  you  love  him,  that  you  are  engaged 
to  him,"  cried  out  the  sharp  Yoice  of  Lanier,  who  had  been 
listening  to  Adelle  from  his  stand  by  the  fireplace,  watch- 
ing her  with  a  yellow,  cat-like  gleam  in  his  black  eyes. 
"  Why  do  you  not  say  that  ?  " 

^^  Because  it  is  not  true.  Captain  Witchell  has  never 
uttered  a  word  of  love  to  me." 

"  Never  written  one,  I  suppose?"  Lanier  said,  leaving 
his  post  and  coming  close  to  her. 

''Never." 

''  Will  you  tell  your  father  and  brother  what  were  the 
contents  of  that  letter  Witchell  sent  you  through  one  of 
his  negro  emissaries  ?  " 

*'A  letter  !    What  does  that  mean,  Adelle  ?    Is  it  possi- 
ble Witchell  has  written  to  you  ?  " 

''  A  few  lines  only,  father.  It  was  only  to  tell  me  about 
Derrick's  recovery." 

"  What  had  he  to  do  with  that  ?  And  why  did  you  hide 
what  he  had  written  to  you  ?  " 

"I  will  tell  you  hereafter.  I  must  see  him  first,  and 
ask  him — " 

"  See  him  !  By  the  God  above  me,  you  shall  never  see 
him  again.  Listen  to  me.  If  I  ever  hear  of  your  com- 
municating in  any  way  with  that  scoundrel,  I'll  fling  you 
out  from  my  house,  as  if  you  were  a  snake  that  had  crawled 
into  it.  I  will  disown  you  forever  ;  and  your  mother  there 
shall  never  speak  to  you  again.     Do  you  hear  that  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head,  but  did  not  speak.  "  If  you  have 
done,  I  will  go  to  my  room,"  she  said,  after  a  silence, 
broken  only  by  a  sob  from  tender-hearted  Mrs.  Holman, 
who  could  not  bear  to  hear  her  darling  scolded,  though 
feeling  that  Adelle  had  really  done  a  dreadful  thing. 

''  Go  ;  but  remember  that  what  I  have  said  I  will  abide 
by." 


100  WILD  wore:. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  were  days  of  gloom.  Adelle, 
although  her  own  heart  was  sore,  tried  to  bring  some  bright- 
ness into  the  house  ;  but  in  vain.  Coldness  and  melancholy 
met  her  efforts  to  please.  Her  father  hardly  noticed  her  ; 
her  mother  sighed,  looked  at  her  reproachfully,  and,  when 
she  spoke  to  her,  used  an  aggrieved  tone.  Derrick  avoided 
her.  He  had  not  returned  to  his  river  farm,  but  he  was 
seldom  in  the  house.  His  mother  said  plaintively  that  she 
was  afraid  Derrick  was  about  to  get  on  one  of  his  sprees 
again.  Trouble'and  fret  were  apt  to  make  him  drink.  He 
was  nearly  all  his  time  at  Lanier's  now ;  and  Lanier,  poor 
fellow,  was  drinking,  no  doubt.  He  had  enough  to  drive 
him  to  it. 

Adelle  had  not  spoken  to  Lanier  since  the  evening  of 
her  return  home.  Whenever  she  caught  sight  of  him,  gal- 
loping up  the  avenue  with  Derrick,  she  shut  herself  in  her 
room.  The  erratic  movements  and  disordered  appearance 
of  both  gave  color  to  her  mother's  fears  that  they  were  "on 
a  spree."  Lanier  always  kept  the  best  liquors  in  the  old- 
fashioned  sideboard  at  his  bachelor  home,  but  it  was  rarely 
that  he  drank  to  excess. 

There  seemed  to  be  some  unusual  pressure  upon  the  two 
men.  On  the  third  morning  after  her  return  she  saw  them 
riding  up  with  two  other  young  men,  as  reckless-looking  as 
themselves.  They  dismounted,  came  in,  and  followed  Der- 
rick to  his  room.  Presently  she  heard  successive  reports  of 
a  pistol.    They  were  firing  off  a  charge  out  of  the  window. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  she  sat  in  her  room — a  pretty 
little  apartment  down  stairs,  open  to  the  orchard  and  gar- 
den. She  was  sitting  by  the  window,  her  book  dropped  in 
her  lap,  her  thoughts  far  away,  her  arm  lying  on  the  win- 
dow-sill, with  the  hand  dropped  listlessly  outside.  Sud- 
denly she  felt  some  one  grasp  her  hand  ;  she  turned  quickly. 
Startled,  she  saw  Lanier's  dusky  face  and  bloodshot  eyes 


WILD    WORK.  101 

close  to  her.  He  stood  on  the  ground  outside,  his  chest  on 
a  level  ivith  the  frame  of  the  low  window. 

"Where  is  the  ring  you  once  wore  upon  this  hand — our 
engagement  ring  ? ''  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"It  was  not  an  engagement  ring ;  I  never  considered  it 
one  ; "  she  said,  trying  to  withdraw  her  hand. 

"  It  was — and  you  know  it.  What  have  you  done  with 
it?" 

"  It  is  in  my  box  ;  I  will  get  it  for  you,  if  you  will  loose 
my  hand. " 

He  loosed  his  grasp,  and  she  got  up  and  brought  the 
ring.     As  she  dropped  it  on  his  palm  he  asked  : 

"Will  you  let  me  put  it  on  your  finger  ?" 

"Not  if  it  means  engagement;  I  am  not  engaged  to 
you. " 

"You  lied  to  me,  then." 

"I  did  not.  I  never  promised  to  marry  you.  I  tried 
to  love  you  for  my  parents'  sake.  Once  I  thought  I  did 
love  you ;  I  knew  better  afterward,  and  tried  in  every 
way  to  let  you  see  my  feelings.  I  ought  to  have  told  you 
plainly." 

"You  knew  better,  I  suppose,  when  you  fell  so  madly 
in  love  with  some  one  else.  That  cursed  Witchell  is  at  the 
bottom  of  this.  You  have  broken  faith  with  a  gentleman 
— the  son  of  your  father's  best  friend — to  fling  yourself  at 
the  head  of  a  Yankee  poltroon." 

"Eichard  Lanier,  I  will  not  listen  to  your  insults.  Go 
away  ;  I  will  close  the  window." 

He  dashed  the  ring  to  the  ground. 

"There  goes  all  my  belief  in  women,  curse  them  !  I'll 
care  for  none  of  them  from  this  out.  I'll  care  for  nothing 
but  to  make  them  I  hate  feel  my  sting.  That  I'll  do.  I'll 
have  revenge.  You'll  hear  from  me,  you  saint-faced  piece 
of  falseness." 


102  WILD    WORK. 

Casting  a  look  of  fierce  menace  upon  Adelle,  lie  flung 
himself  away  from  the  window. 

'*  Lanier,  Lanier  !  "  she  called,  in  anxiety  that  was  almost 
terror.  But  he  did  not  look  back.  A  few  moments  after- 
ward she  saw  him  riding  away  from  the  house  at  his  usual 
reckless  speed. 

Directly  after,  her  brother  and  his  two  companions  came 
out  of  his  room.  They  were  flushed  and  excited.  One  of 
the  young  men  carried  Derrick's  repeating  gun,  and  Adelle 
caught  sight  of  navy  pistols  under  Derrick's  coat. 

*'  Going  hunting,  boys  ?  ''  asked  Mrs.  Holman's  quaver- 
ing treble  as  they  passed  her  door. 

*^  Yes,  mother,  we're  after  game,"  called  back  Derrick, 
with  a  discordant  laugh. 

"  What'll  you  do  for  the  hounds  ?     Nero  and  Bull  are 
with  your  father  at  the  mill." 

"We  won't  need  the  dogs." 

"You're  going  to  still-hunt,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  we're  going  to  still-hunt,"  Derrick  an- 
swered, with  another  laugh  that  sent  a  cold  shiver  through 
Adelle. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Twilight  was  settling  over  the  prospect  of  russet  fields 
and  woods  upon  which  Adelle  looked  as  she  sat  by  her 
window,  having  hardly  changed  her  position  since  she 
watched,  from  this  post,  her  brother  and  his  companions 
riding  down  the  road  an  hour  ago.  The  crimson  streak 
the  sunset  had  left  on  the  cloudless  sky  had  darkened  into 
a  dusk  red,  almost  the  hue  of  the  autumn  woods  with 
which  it  blended. 

The  twilight  was  becoming  gloomy  in  Adelle's  room. 


WILD    WORK,  103 

Btill  slie  did  not  light  her  lamp  or  close  the  window,  out 
of  which  her  eyes  went  in  a  far  look  that  seemed  to  rest 
upon  the  rim  of  a  distant  hill. 

Suddenly  the  line  of  her  vision  was  broken. 

A  head  popped  up  above  the  window-sill — a  sandy- 
haired,  sallow-faced  head,  with  abundant  freckles  and  two 
small,  ferret  eyes.  She  started  back,  and  the  figure  waved 
a  deprecating  hand. 

'*  Miss  Dell,  don't  be  scared,  it's  only  me — Piper.  I've 
got  something  to  tell  you.     May  I  come  in  ?  " 

She  recognized  a  waif,  who  had  found  lodgment  for 
two  years  past  on  Lanier's  place,  where  he  did  odd  jobs 
about  the  house  and  yard,  and  received  victuals  and  clothes, 
and  kind  words  or  cuffs  from  his  employer,  according  as  it 
suited  Lanier's  capricious  mood.  His  caprice  could  not 
affect  Piper's  dog-like  devotion  to  him,  and  the  boy  was  as 
meek  after  receiving  a  sound  cursing  as  if  he  had  been  lis- 
tening to  his  praises,  though  he  was  spiteful  to  the  negroes, 
who  disliked  him  and  imposed  upon  him. 

Adelle  had  done  him  a  service  once.  She  had  released 
him  from  a  steel  trap  that  had  clamped  him  as  he  was  rob- 
bing her  father's  melon  patch.  She  bound  up  his  wound 
and  kept  his  secret.  He  never  forgot  it,  and  had  more  than 
once  declared  that  he  would  fight  for  her  to  the  last  drop 
of  his  blood  ;  an  assertion  which  Adelle,  who  had  seen  him 
take  to  his  heels  when  assaulted  by  a  turkey  gobbler,  had  a 
right  not  to  rely  upon. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  feeling  a  presentiment  that  she 
would  learn  something  connected  with  the  uneasiness  that 
had  been  weighing  upon  her  since  hearing  Lanier's  words 
and  noting  her  brother's  reckless  looks  and  laughter. 

The  slim,  lank  figure  sprang  nimbly  over  the  window- 
sill. 

"  Lock  your  door,  Miss  Dell ;  I  am  afraid  somebody  will 


101  WILD    WORE. 

see  me.  I  come  through  the  orchard.  I  knowed  I  could 
git  to  your  window  by  stoopin'  down  as  I  run  through  the 
shrubbery,  'thout  any  them  pryin'  niggers  seein'  me." 

Adelle  locked  the  door,  and  came  back  to  him. 

"  Now,  Piper,  what  is  it  ?  " 

'^Promise  me  you  won't  let  nobody  know  what  I'm 
goin'  to  tell  you.  Miss  Dell." 

"I  can't  promise  that  until  I  know  what  it  is  I  am  to 
hear." 

''Well,  will  you  promise  not  to  tell  who  told  it  to 
you  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  I  think  I  can  promise  that.     Go  on." 

''Well,  it's  jes'  this.  There's  goin'  to  be  bloody  doin's 
'twixt  now  and  sunrise,  and  I'm  mighty  sorry  Mr.  Eichard 
and  your  brother  Derrick's  got  a  hand  in  it,  for  they'll  git 
hurted,  sure." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?    0  Piper,  tell  me  at  once  ! " 

"  I  wiU.  You  see,  I've  noticed  Mr.  Richard's  been  actin' 
curus  ever  sence  he  come  back  from  Malta.  He's  all  the 
time  on  the  go,  and  nothin'  pleases  him,  and  he's  fonder'n 
ever  of  bringin'  me  to  my  senses,  as  he  calls  slingin'  the 
tongs  or  the  blacken-bresh  atter  me.  Then,  I  reckin, 
'tween  him  and  Mr.  Derrick,  I've  had  to  fill  up  the  whisky 
bottle  a  dozen  times.  I  couldn't  make  out  what  was  to 
pay,  but  las'  night  it  come  out.  Two  more  fellows  come, 
and  atter  eatin'  supper  and  empty  in'  the  bottle  twice,  they 
set  down  in  Mr.  Richard's  room,  where  I  was  makin'  a  fire. 
Soon's  'twas  burnin'  Mr.  Richard  told  me  to  go  out  and  go 
to  bed,  and  then  he  locked  the  door.  That  put  me  up  to 
listenin',  and  what  does  I  do  but  go  in  the  next  room  and 
git  down  on  my  hands  and  knees  by  the  partition  where 
there  was  a  crack  in  the  plasterin'  betwixt  the  chimney  and 
the  wall,  and  I  puts  my  car  to  the  crack  and  hears  every 
word  they  was  talkin'  about,  I  did." 


WILD   WORK  105 

"What  did  you  hear?" 

*'Why,  them  four  is  goin'  to-night  with  masts  oyer 
their  faces  to  Captain  Witchell's  house  on  the  lake,  and 
take  him  and  Devene  and  hang  'em  high  to  a  tree.  That's 
it ;  I  heard  Mr.  Richard  tell  the  whole  plan  to  them  others 
they  had  sent  for  to  come  and  go  with  'em.  He  said  Cap- 
tain Witchell  wouldn't  fight  fair,  and  didn't  deserve  to  have 
a  white  man  fight  fair  with  him  nohow  ;  and  so  they'd  just 
take  law  in  their  own  hands  and  give  him  the  hangin'  he's 
been  earnin'  for  these  many  months,  and  Devene  with  him  ; 
and  'twould  be  a  good  riddance  for  the  country  and  a  right 
and  just  act.     That's  how  they  put  it." 

**Why  did  you  not  come  and  tell  me  of  this  at 
once  ?  " 

"  Well,  'twas  in  the  night  then,  nigh  on  to  ten  o'clock, 
and  I  aimed  to  come  nex'  mornin'.  But  what  must  Mr. 
Richard  do  but  set  me  the  bigges'  kind  o'  task  o'  thrashin' 
peas,  and  I've  been  hard  at  it  all  day ;  jest  got  through 
when  they  rides  up,  and  I  gits  Bob  to  take  the  bosses  to 
water  and  pull  the  saddles  off,  while  I  runs  over  here  as 
fast  as  my  legs  could  carry  me.  I  come  to  you  bekase  I 
thought  the  squire  would  interfere  if  he  knew  what  was 
goin'  on  ;  or  you  might  work  on  your  brother,  and  git  him 
to  give  it  up.  It's  no  use  tryin'  with  t'other  one.  Mr. 
Richard  is  dead  bent  on  devilment.  .  I  see  it  getherin'  in 
him  ever  so  long.  See  that  fresh  scar  on  my  head  ?  He 
give  me  that  day  before  yesterday  for  just  little  or  nothin' 
(give  me  a  vest,  good  as  new,  nex'  day  to  smooth  over  my 
feelin's),  but  I  declare  I  thought  he  was  goin'  to  kill  me, 
his  eye  flashed  so.  It  done  the  same  las'  night ;  I  seen  it 
through  the  crack,  when  one  of  the  men  laughed,  and  said  : 
'  You're  so  hot  after  Witchell,  Lanier,  bekase  he  cut  you 
out.'  You  ought  to  seen  Mr.  Richard  jump  at  him,  and 
your  brother  had  to  part  'em  an'  make  peace,  and  then  he 


106  WILD   WOEK. 

said  to  the  fellow  :  *  Never  do  you  dare  to  'lude  to  my  sister 
in  such  connection  agin.  She's  got  nothin'  to  do  with  this 
affair.  We're  goin'  to  rid  the  country  of  a  blood-sucker 
(with  a  cuss  word  in  between,  Miss  Dell),  that's  all.  To  be 
sure,  one  of  the  many  scores  I've  got  against  him  is  his  pre- 
sumin'  to  speak  to  my  sister,  but  that's  my  business,  and 
no—'" 

"  Stop,  Piper,"  interrupted  Adelle,  who  had  listened  in 
pale  distress  while  the  boy,  tugging  at  the  patch  on  his  old 
jacket,  delivered  himself  of  his  information.  ''At  what 
time  to-night  do  they  aim  to  make  the  attack  ?  " 

''  Late.  After  midnight,  I  think  ;  jes'  before  day.  I 
heard  Mr.  Eichard  say  that  was  the  time  sleep  was  soundest 
and  niggers  was  hardest  to  wake.  They  was  'fraid  the 
darkies  on  the  i:>lace  might  interfere." 

"  Then  we  will  have  time  to  warn  him.  Piper,  you  will 
go,  I  know.  You  can  ride  my  horse,  and  I  will  pay  you 
well.  Piper.  You  know  where  Captain  Witchell  lives. 
You  were  with  us  the  time  we  had  the  fish-fry  on  the  lake, 
and  camped  near  Captain  Witchell's  place." 

"No  ma'am,  I  wasn't.  I  had  fever  un  ager,  and  never 
went.  But,  if  I  knew  where  he  lived,  I  dassent  go  there 
to-night." 

''Why?" 

"  Why,  Miss  Dell,  Mr.  Richard'd  miss  me,  sure.  He'd 
come  upon  me,  or  he'd  find  out  about  me  goin',  and  he'd 
hang  me  then,  certain.  'Sides,  I  wouldn't  go  'way  there  at 
night  by  myself  for  the  biggest  bag  of  money  Captain 
Witchell's  got.  I  never  could  go  about  at  night.  I'm 
scared  to  go  back  home  now,  close  as  'tis,  and  it  not  dark 
yet.     I  must  go  right  away." 

"  Stop,  Piper  !  For  my  sake,  I  beg  you  to  go.  You  will 
not  be  found  out ;  nothing  will  hurt  you  ;  I  will  stand  be- 
tween you  and  harm.     I  will  write  a  note,  and  help  you  to 


WILD    WORK.  107 

get  off  without  any  one  finding  it  out.    And  you  shall  have 
ten  dollars.  Piper." 

*'  Miss  Dell,  I'd  do  it  for  the  love  of  you  without  your 
money — ef  I  could.  But  I  dassent.  I  know  Mr.  Eichard 
'ud  find  it  out.  He  always  finds  out  everything  I  do  wrong. 
Ile'd  run  upon  me  ;  and  there'd  be  somethin'  worse'n  that 
scar  on  my  head.  He'd  break  every  bone  in  my  skin.  I 
oughter  be  back  home  this  minnet,  to  feed  them  horses. 
Miss  Dell,  do  you  want  me  to  carry  any  word  to  your  broth- 
er ? — somethin',  you  know,  that  won't  let  on  about  my  havin' 
told  you  anythin'.     You  'member  your  promise. 

"Yes,  there  is  something  you  must  tell  Derrick  for  me. 
Tell  him  to  come  to  me  at  once  ;  that  I  am  sick  ;  that  I 
have  just  heard  bad  news,  and  want  him  immediately.  Tell 
him  to  come  right  away,  Piper." 

"I  will  certain,  sure.  Miss  Dell,"  the  boy  said,  as  he 
jumped  out  of  the  window  like  a  cat,  and  took  his  way 
across  the  orchard.  He  meant  to  do  as  he  said ;  but,  on 
reaching  home,  he  was  met  by  his  irate  master,  who  rated 
him  roundly  about  having  carried  pff  the  corn-crib  key,  and 
not  being  there  to  feed  the  horses  at  the  proper  time,  and 
Adelle's  message  was  quite  frightened  out  of  his  head. 
When  it  came  to  his  recollection,  he  was  afraid  to  deliver 
it  to  Derrick,  lest  Lanier  should  find  out  what  it  was  and 
suspect  him  of  having  eavesdropped  and  given  information. 

Meantime  Adelle  waited  with  agonized  impatience  for 
her  brother  to  come.  She  forced  herself  to  sit  down  to  the 
early  tea,  and  to  eat  a  few  mouthfuls  and  talk  as  usual. 
Her  father  seemed  in  better  humor  than  he  had  been  for 
some  time.     He  even  said  to  her  at  the  table  : 

"  Come  in  after  a  while  and  read  me  a  chapter  of  Liv- 
ingston's " Life."     The  print  is  too  fine  for  my  eyes." 

The  thought  came  to  her  : 

"  I  will  tell  him.     It  is  possible,  he  may  use  his  influ- 


108  WILD    WORK, 

ence  to  preyent  this  crime.  He  never  would  restrain  Der- 
rick in  anything  he  did  against  the  Eadicals.  Now,  it  will 
be  worse,  since  he  thinks  he  has  a  fresh  cause  of  hate  to 
Captain  Witchell.  But  I  must,  I  will  tell  him.  If  Der- 
rick does  not  come  in  fifteen  minutes,  I  will  tell  my  father 
and  implore  him  to  prevent  this  wicked  murder." 

She  went  out  on  the  piazza  and  walked  up  and  down, 
stopping  often  to  listen  if  she  could  hear  the  tramp  of  an 
approaching  horse.  But  no  such  sound  came  to  her  strained 
ear.  The  clock  struck  eight.  She  turned  and  went  into 
her  father's  room.  She  found  him  comfortably  settled  in 
his  favorite  arm-chair,  smoking  his  pipe,  that  he  always 
emptied  of  tobacco  before  going  to  bed.  Her  mother  was 
nodding  softly  over  the  stocking  she  had  been  knitting. 

'^  Wake  up,  mother  ! "  said  the  old  gentleman,  touching 
her  cap-strings ;  *^  here's  Adelle  going  to  read  something 
about  Livingston's  tribulations  in  the  land  of  apes  and 
snakes,  hyenas  and  Africans — the  last,  the  worst  beasts  of 
all.  And  a  nice  time  he  had  trying  to  Christianize  these 
cannibals  !  I  wish  every  Yankee  and  Radical  was  there 
in  the  middle  of  Ujiji.  They'd  have  their  fill  of  their 
sweet  pets  then." 

This  was  an  unfortunate  beginning;  Adelle's  hopes 
sank  almost  to  zero,  but  she  had  determined  to  make  a 
trial. 

"Father,"  she  said,  '^  there  are  other  barbarians  besides 
the  Africans,  and  other  people  who  commit  crimes  besides 
the  Radicals.  What  would  you  think  of  a  party  of  men 
falling  upon  a  helpless  man  in  his  sleep,  dragging  him  out 
of  bed,  and  hanging  him  to  a  tree  without  judge  or  jury — 
would  not  that  be  a  crime  ?  " 

"It  depends  upon  who  the  man  might  be  that  was 
hanged.  If  he  was  some  carpet-bagging  tyrant  stained  with 
sins  against  the  people,  who  had  no  other  way  of  redress 


WILD    WORK.  109 

than  by  punisliiiig  him  themselves,  because  law  and  justice 
had  ceased  to  be,  then  I  say  let  him  hang.  But  what  are 
you  driying  at?  Some  particular  case,  I  sujipose,  from 
your  pointed  question.     What  is  it  ?  " 

'at  is  this,  father.  Captain  Witchell  is  to  be  fallen 
upon  to-night  and  murdered,  and  my  brother  and  Lanier 
will  be  chief  assassinators  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

''  I  know  it ;  I  need  not  tell  you  how  I  heard  it,  but  it 
came  direct — " 

''I  don't  believe  it." 

'^t  is  true,  father.  Derrick  came  this  afternoon  and 
got  his  gun  and  pistols.  0  father,  send  for  him ;  go  to 
him,  forbid  his  doing  such  a  crime." 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Derrick's  of  age  and  can 
take  care  of  himself.  If  there's  anything  in  this  big  mare's- 
nest  that  you  have  discovered,  it's  only  that  the  boys  want 
to  tar  and  feather  the  rascal,  and  he  deserves  that,  and 
hanging  besides." 

'^s  it  possible  that  you  would  be  willing  to  let  my 
brother  commit  a  murder  ?  " 

"  Murder,  indeed  !  Do  you  call  freeing  the  land  from 
a  Radical  vampire  a  murder  ?  " 

"  Father,  listen  to  me.  Only  let  me  tell  you  what  Cap- 
tain Witchell  has  done  for  Derrick.  Last  September, 
he—" 

"Silence,  and  go  away  from  me,  Adelle  ;  I  am  sick  of 
that  villain's  name ;  you  shall  not  call  it  in  my  presence 
again.  If  Derrick  gets  into  any  difficulty  about  him,  you 
may  blame  yourself.  You  are  the  cause  of  all  this  trouble. 
Go." 

He  pushed  her  from  him,  and  when  she  turned  to  her 
mother,  who  had  begun  to  cry,  he  sternly  ordered  her  from 
the  room. 


110  WILD   WORK. 

Slie  went ;  her  heart  swelling  with  misery,  but  her  eyes 
dry,  her  brain  throbbing,  active,  her  purpose  to  save  Cap- 
tain Witchell  unshaken.  She  would  go  to  the  negro  quar- 
ter and  find  some  one  that  she  might  hire  to  take  him  the 
warning  in  time.  She  ran  rapidly  along  the  path  that  led 
to  the  quarter,  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  the 
dwelling-house  was  built.  The  night  was  clear  ;  there  was 
a  glory  of  stars  overhead  ;  later,  there  would  be  a  moon.  It 
was  profoundly  quiet ;  the  sound  of  a  horse  stamping  in 
the  stable  not  far  off  sent  for  an  instant  a  thrill  of  joy 
through  her  veins.  She  thought  it  was  Derrick  coming  at 
last.  Oh,  if  he  would  only  come  !  She  thought  she  might 
influence  him,  if  she  could  see  him  alone  ;  she  might  work 
upon  his  feelings  and  induce  him  to  give  up  this  wicked 
project ;  but  to  go  there — ^to  Lanier's  house,  with  Lanier 
and  those  other  men  all  heated  by  drinking — to  seek  him 
there  would  be  madness  ;  it  would  only  inflame  his  anger 
against  her,  and  strengthen  his  purpose. 

She  reached  the  quarter,  a  long  row  of  log  cabins  in  a 
grove  of  hickory-trees.  In  the  days  of  slavery  they  had 
all  been  occupied,  but  now,  with  the  exception  of  three  or 
four,  they  had  fallen  into  dilapidation — the  pig-pens,  the 
chicken-coops,  the  little  gardens  that  had  been  wont  to  ex- 
hibit rows  of  the  inevitable  long-legged  coUards,  were  no 
more  ;  the  shutterless  doors  gaped  wide,  and  the  dirt  chim- 
neys had  fallen. 

Into  one  of  the  cabins,  whose  curling  smoke  gave  token 
of  habitation,  Adelle  entered.  She  found  a  negro  woman 
patching  a  ragged  garment  while  she  sang  a  hymn  and 
rocked  a  baby  to  sleep  with  her  foot  upon  the  rocker  of  the 
rude  pine  cradle.  Another  child  lay  stretched  before  the 
hearth  asleep,  his  head  nestled  close  to  a  sleeping  hound. 
The  dog  waked  and  barked,  the  woman  looked  up  and  saw 
Adelle,  rose  and  courtcsicd. 


WILD    WORK,  111 

''  Where  is  your  husband,  Phillis  ?  " 

"  Gone  over  de  creek  to  de  sugar-bilin'  on  Dr.  "Winstor's 
place,  Miss  Dell." 

"Where  is  Ben,  and  Miles,  and  Harry  ?" 

"Gone  dare,  too.  Ebery  hand  on  dis  place  gone,  wim- 
min  and  all,  'cept  me  and  Sis  Silvy,  and  Mag  and  Aunt 
Kate." 

"When  will  they  come  back  ?" 

"  Dey  went  'bout  sundown  ;  can't  come  home  till  day- 
break, case  de  creek  so  full  it's  dangersome  to  cross  it  at 
night." 

"  Then  you  couldn't  go  there  after  Willis  for  me." 

"  To-night !  Law  sakes  !  Miss  Dell.  It's  three  miles, 
and,  if  the  creek  warn't  up,  I'd  be  'fraid  to  go,  anyhow.  I 
never  travel  about  any  of  nights  'thout  there's  men-folks 
with  me." 

"Would  Silvy  go?" 

"Silvy's  sick  a-bed,  and  you  know  Mag  wouldn't  stir  a 
step  out  of  de  house  at  night  to  save  life.  She  was  born 
wid  a  caul  over  her  head,  and  she  sees  sperits  and  gits  scared 
outer  her  wits.  I'm  mightly  sorry  they'se  all  gone.  What 
f er  did  you  want  Willis,  Miss  Dell  ?  " 

"  To  take  a  note  to  a  friend  away  off  ;  but  I  see  I  must 
try  some  other  plan  to  get  it  carried.  Good  night,  Phil- 
lis." 

And  baffled  once  more,  but  still  resolute  of  purpose,  she 
hurried  back  to  the  house,  revolving  in  her  mind  what 
could  be  done.  There  seemed  now  but  one  alternative. 
She  must  herself  take  the  note  to  Captain  Witchell,  warning 
him  of  the  attack  that  would  be  made  that  night.  She 
ought  not,  anyhow,  to  trust  a  messenger  less  interested 
than  herself.  Such  a  one  might  prove  treacherous,  or  he 
might  be  too  slow,  or  he  might  take  too  little  heed  and  lose 
his  way.     Negroes  especially  were  not  to  be  relied  upon. 


112  WILD    WORE. 

*'No/'  she  said,  as  she  drew  near  the  house,  ''I  must 
go  myself.  At  nine  o'clock,  father  and  mother  will  be  in 
bed  ;  I  can  saddle  Bayard  and  get  away  without  any  noise, 
and  I  can  ride  to  the  lake  in  two  hours,  or  two  and  a  half 
at  most.  But  oh !  if  I  should  be  seen  on  the  way — if  I 
should  be  found  out — what  would  become  me  ?  what  would 
be  said  of  me  ?  My  reputation  would  be  lost  for  ever. 
And,  if  some  negro  or  lawless  tramp  should  attack  me  in 
one  of  the  deep  woods  and  lonely  places  I  will  have  to  pass 
through — spring  out  and  grasp  my  bridle-rein,  and  drag 
me  from  the  horse,  as  I  have  heard  so  often  of  their  doing. 
Oh  !  I  can't  risk  it ;  I  can't  go  !  But  can  I  not  risk  some- 
thing, sacrifice  something  to  save  a  life — to  save  his  life  ? 
I  will.  I  will  disguise  myself  in  some  of  Derrick's  clothes  ; 
that  will  guard  against  the  worst  danger.  Captain  Witchell 
will  not  know  me  ;  I  will  send  the  note  in  to  him.  He  will 
not  even  see  me.  But  I  must  hurry — hurry  ;  it  must  be 
nearly  nine  o'clock.  I  hear  father  locking  the  front 
door." 

She  met  him  in  the  hall  as  she  passed  on  to  her  room. 
He  looked  hard  at  her,  but  did  not  speak.  She  heard  him 
lock  the  back  door  and  return  to  his  room.  When  she 
heard  the  click  of  the  bolt,  she  opened  her  own  door  and 
slipped  out,  and  stole  across  the  entry  to  Derrick's  room, 
where  she  possessed  herself  of  a  dark  suit  of  clothes  belong- 
ing to  him.  Returning  across  the  hall,  she  took  down  the 
stable  key  that  hung  there  on  the  wall.  Once  more  in  her 
room,  she  secured  the  door,  and  wrote,  as  legibly  as  her 
trembling  hand  would  allow,  a  note  that  ran  in  this  wise  : 

*' Captain  Witchell  :  An  attack  will  be  made  on  you 
to-night.  Four  men  will  come,  between  midnight  and  day, 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  your  life.  Guard  against  them, 
but  avoid  bloodshed.    For  the  sake  of  the  friend  who  warns 


WILD    WORK.  113 

you,  kill  no  one  of  them.  It  would  be  best  to  leave  the 
house  secretly,  and  take  refuge  in  some  unsuspected  place. 
To  do  this  would  be  a  wise  precaution  against  violence. 

'^  A  True  Friexd." 

This  written,  she  hastily  dressed  herself  in  Derrick's 
clothes,  that  fitted  her  sufficiently  well,  buckled  a  strong 
belt  around  her,  in  which  she  thrust  a  little  repeating  pistol 
that  her  mother  had  worn  as  a  means  of  protection  during 
the  troublous  days  of  the  civil  war,  threw  around  her  a 
black  talma  and  fastened  it  securely  by  its  tasseled  cords. 
Her  long  hair  she  bound  up  and  tucked  under  a  velvet  rid- 
ing cap  of  her  own,  from  which  she  had  torn  the  plume, 
that  it  might  look  like  a  man's  cap.  Putting  the  note  and 
the  stable  key  into  her  pocket,  she  approached  the  open 
window,  and,  after  listening  intently  for  a  moment,  noise- 
lessly dropped  herself  down  to  the  soft  flower-beds  a  few 
feet  below. 

The  stable  was  almost  back  of  the  house.  She  reached 
it,  unlocked  the  door,  and,  going  in,  soon  found,  despite 
the  partial  darkness,  bridle  and  saddle  hanging  in  their  ac- 
customed places,  and  put  them  on  her  pet  horse.  Bayard. 

'*  You  and  I  have  work  to  do  to-night,  old  fellow,"  she 
whispered  in  his  ear,  as  she  led  him  from  the  stable.  She 
dared  not  take  him  to  the  road  by  the  ordinary  outlet. 
It  ran  too  near  the  house  on  that  side  where  her  father's 
room  was  situated.  So  she  led  him  through  a  gate  on  the 
other  side  of  the  house,  into  the  orchard  and  across  it ;  then, 
by  letting  down  a  low  fence,  she  had  him  close  to  the  road, 
fifty  yards  past  the  house.  There,  in  a  little  thicket  of 
pine  saplings,  she  mounted  into  the  saddle,  and  rode  slowly 
until  she  descended  the  hill  and  the  house  was  out  of  sight. 
Then  she  quickened  her  horse's  gait,  and  rode  with  a  firm 
pace  through  the  silence.     In  the  first  deep-shadowed  hoi- 


114  WILD    WOA'K. 

low  she  caught  her  breath  iu  fear,  for  she  heard  steps  be- 
hind her.  She  looked  and  saw  nothing,  until,  on  mounting 
the  unshaded  crest  of  the  hill,  she  saw  a  dark  object  trot- 
ting behind  her. 

"Nero,"  she  called,  and  a  pleased  whine  answered  her, 
as  the  dog  ran  forward  to  the  side  of  the  horse. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,  old  boy  ;  you  are  some  protection 
anyway,  though  I  shouldn't  have  dared  to  call  you." 

She  rode  on  ;  her  father's  fields  were  passed.  The  die  was 
cast.  She  had  set  out  on  a  strange,  wild  errand  ;  it  might 
save  the  life  of  the  man  she  loved  :  it  might  cost  her  more 
than  life.  But  she  threw  fear  away  from  her  as  she  rode, 
till  Lanier's  house  came  in  sight.  It  sat  back  some  distance 
from  the  road  in  a  grove  of  oaks,  but  a  broad  walk  led  down 
to  a  gate  that  opened  almost  upon  the  road.  What  if  Lanier 
or  Derrick  should  be  sitting  there  on  the  fence,  smoking 
their  cigars  in  the  starlight,  as  they  were  fond  of  doing  ? 
They  would  recognize  the  horse,  the  dog,  and  through  these 
herself.  She  would  have  ridden  around  to  avoid  going 
near  the  house,  but  there  was  a  high  fence  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road.  There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to  ride 
straight  on  at  a  quiet  pace.  She  hardly  breathed  as  she 
passed  the  gate,  but  no  one  was  there.  The  sound  of  a 
loud  laugh  reached  her  ear  as  she  passed,  and,  in  the  light 
that  came  through  the  windows,  she  caught  sight  of  dark 
figures  standing  and  moving  about  on  the  gallery.  She 
reached  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  was  about  to  urge  her 
horse  to  greater  speed,  when  suddenly  the  animal  started  ; 
the  dog  gave  a  sharp  bark  ;  she  thought  she  heard  a  rustle 
in  the  woods  close  to  her  on  the  right.  She  looked  in  that 
direction  fearfully,  but  her  eye  could  not  penetrate  the 
gloom.  She  saw  nothing — unless — could  that  be  some  dark 
object  hiding  behind  the  great  oak  tree  close  to  the  end  of 
the  fence  ? 


WILD    WOEK.  115 

''  On,  Bayard  ! "  she  said,  low,  to  her  horse,  and  away  he 
sped.  Lanier's  farm  was  left  behind,  and  she  breathed 
more  freely.  On  and  on — over  hills,  and  down  into  hollows 
threaded  by  streams  that  babbled  under  the  shadows.  The 
loneliness  of  the  road,  the  calmness  of  the  night,  began  to 
give  her  courage.  She  ceased  to  start  when  a  twig  crackled 
under  her  horse's  feet,  or  the  night-prowling  raccoon, 
skunk,  or  'possum  rustled  the  fallen  leaves  of  the  wood. 

It  grew  late  ;  the  lights  were  out  in  the  few  farmhouses 
she  passed.  The  face  of  the  country  had  altered  ;  she  was 
sure  her  journey  was  more  than  half  ended ;  and  yonder 
was  a  gibbous  moon  rising  and  gleaming  through  the  trees. 
She  struck  a  match,  and  looked  at  her  watch.  Eleven 
o'clock.  She  had  been  an  hour  and  a  half  on  the  road.  In 
less  than  a  hour  more  her  mission  would  bo  accomplished, 
or  it  would  have  failed.  If  nothing  happened,  she  would 
be  in  time  ;  iie  would  be  saved. 

But  what  of  her  return  ?  Might  she  not  meet  Lanier 
and  the  others  on  her  way  back  ?  She  would  not  think  of 
it.  When  she  heard  them  coming,  she  could  ride  out  into 
the  woods  until  they  passed.  She  would  not  let  the  thought 
of  it  disturb  her  yet.  The  night  was  cool,  the  air  fresh, 
the  skies  brightening  overhead,  her  horse  still  in  excellent 
wind.  Upon  each  height  he  ascended,  his  mistress  merci- 
fully slackened  his  speed.  Once  she  was  resting  him  for  a 
moment  on  the  crest  of  a  hill,  when  she  saw  him  prick  for- 
ward his  ears  and  seem  to  listen.  She  herself  listened  and 
heard  a  sound  like  that  of  a  horse  galloping  on  the  road  far 
behind.  '  Was  she  pursued,  or  were  they  coming  already 
to  do  their  work  of  death  ?  Again  she  listened.  Yes,  un- 
mistakably she  heard  that  sound,  like  the  quick,  steady 
strokes  of  a  horse's  hoofs  upon  the  hard  earth. 

Off  she  started  again,  putting  Bayard  to  his  best  mettle. 
Away,  through  strips  of  denser  wood,  into  deeper  hollows, 
6 


116  WILD    WORK. 

past  richer  fields  white  with  opening  cotton,  stopping  only 
once  to  listen  for  that  sound  and  hearing  it  again,  but  more 
faintly. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

At  length  the  last  hill  was  passed.  She  descended  into 
the  Lake  Swamp  ;  the  undergrowth  vanished.  Great  tree- 
boles  rose  like  the  masts  of  a  giant  vessel ;  huge  vines  swung 
from  them  like  the  ropes  of  the  ship.  The  light  of  moon 
and  stars  only  here  and  there  flickered  through  the  umbra- 
geous gloom.  For  the  first  time  the  chill  of  the  night 
struck  through  her  veins,  and  she  shivered  with  cold  and 
fear. 

^'  Nero,"  she  called,  to  break  the  silence  that  frightened 
her.     The  dog  answered  by  a  reassuring  bark. 

At  last  she  came  upon  cleared  fields,  and  caught  a  gleam 
of  the  lake  lying  under  the  moon.  She  looked  to  the  right. 
There  should  be  a  path  here  leading  to  Captain  Witchell's 
house.  Ah !  here  it  was,  and  yonder  the  glimmer  of  a 
lamp  at  an  upper  window  of  the  house.  Now  the  outline 
of  the  building  was  seen,  dark  against  the  sky.  Two  min- 
utes more,  and,  with  wildly-beating  heart,  she  drew  rein 
before  the  gate  of  the  low  fence  that  inclosed  the  yard. 
Light  streamed  through  a  half-opened  window  ;  she  saw  a 
man  standing  by  the  fireplace ;  she  heard  a  voice  speak, 
and  another  one  reply.  At  the  same  instant  her  ear  caught 
the  tramp  of  an  approaching  horse.  She  must  lose  no 
time.  Summoning  all  her  courage,  she  called  out  hoarsely, 
"Halloo!" 

A  man  came  to  the  window ;  the  spare,  straight  figure 
was  Captain  Witchell's,  and  it  was  his  voice  that  demanded  : 


WILD    WORK,  IIY 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  To  see  you  a  moment." 

"Won't  you  come  in  ?" 

"jS'o  ;  I  must  go  back  at  once." 

"Very  well,  Til  come." 

"Better  not,  Captain,"  said  Devene's  voice.  "Be  on 
your  guard.  This  might  be  a  stratagem  to  get  you  out  for 
no  good." 

"There's  only  one  man;  I'm  a  match  for  one  man,. I 
think,"  said  Captain  Witchell,  carelessly,  as  he  came  out. 
He  walked  directly  to  the  paling  where  Adelle  sat  trem- 
bling on  the  horse,  the  velvet  cap  pulled  over  her  face,  the 
note  in  her  hand.  She  held  it  out  to  him  the  moment  he 
came  within  reach,  and,  fearful  of  being  recognized,  was 
wheeling  her  horse  to  ride  away,  when  Captain  Witchell 
asked : 

"Is  any  answer  needed  ?  " 

"No." 

She  could  not  keep  her  voice  from  trembling ;  she  felt 
that  his  keen  eye  was  upon  her.  She  did  not  know  that  in 
trying  to  hide  her  face  with  the  cap  she  had  drawn  it  too 
far  from  behind,  and  that  a  tress  of  her  long  hair  had  es- 
caped.    He  saw  it  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Do  you  come  from  Malta  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  view  to 
hearing  her  speak  again. 

"No.     Good-night." 

While  she  spoke,  a  horseman  had  ridden  up.  He  could 
not  be  the  one  she  had  heard  behind  her.  This  one  came 
from  another  direction.  He  was  a  negro,  riding*  Captain 
Witchell's  noted  horse. 

"The  doctor  wasn't  home.  Mars  Witchell,"  he  said* 
"  Be  home  by  daybreak  ;  I  lef  word  for  him  to  come  right 
on.     Is  Sampson  any  worser  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I've  just  been  down  to  the  cabin  to  see  him.    Go 


118  WILD    WORK. 

there,  and  make  sure  his  wife  gives  him  the  medicine  I  left. 
It  is  time  now  for  him  to  take  it.  Fasten  Zep  where  he  is, 
and  leave  him  for  the  present  ?  " 

Adelle  heard  this  colloquy  as  she  rode  away.  With  one 
look  at  her  retreating  figure  Witchell  hurried  up  to  his 
room  and  read  the  note.  One  instant  his  brow  contracted 
in  thought,  then  he  rose  with  an  air  of  decision,  glanced 
from  the  window,  and  saw  in  the  dim  moonlight  the  dis- 
guised messenger  nearing  the  end  of  the  path  that  led 
through  the  cleared  meadow,  and  about  to  enter  the  woods. 

He  threw  the  note  over  to  Devene.  "We  are  to  be  at- 
tacked to-night,  you  see.  Get  the  guns  and  pistols  from 
the  armoire  yonder ;  load  them  up.  Call  up  Ben  and  Joe 
Harris  from  the  quarter ;  make  them  fasten  up  doors  and 
windows,  and  watch  in  the  hall.  I'll  be  back  in  time  for 
the  reception.  I'm  going  to  follow  that  messenger  and  find 
out  something  more." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Witchell,  don't  go  out  by  yourself  in 
that  way  !  You  may  meet  them  any  moment.  It's  madness 
to  expose  yourself\So." 

"  I'm  not  afraid.     I'll  be  back  directly." 

*' You  are  not  going  unarmed  ?  Here,  take  my  pistol, 
at  least." 

"  I  have  my  stick  ;  I'm  all  right.  Don't  be  exercised 
about  me.     Go  back,  and  do  as  I  told  you. ' 

Mounting  the  horse  that  stood  at  the  gate  where  he  had 
directed  the  negro  to  leave  him,  he  was  soon  clattering  at 
full  speed  down  the  road,  determined  to  overtake  Adelle, 
whom  he  had  recognized  from  that  truant  tress,  as  well  as 
from  the  voice  she  had  vainly  tried  to  disguise,  and  from 
the  glimpse  he  had  of  oval  cheek  and  delicate  chin  under 
the  slouched  cap.  He  felt  how  much  she  had  risked  for 
his  sake  ;  he  could  not  let  her  ride  back  alone  and  unpro- 
tected.    He  would  follow  her,  and,  without  betraying  that 


WJZI)    wo  UK.  119 

lie  knew  lier,  find  some  pretext  to  ride  with  her,  or  at  least 
so  near  her  as  to  be  at  hand  if  any  danger  befell  her. 

She  had  already  left  behind  her  the  road  through  the 
moon-lighted,  cleared  space,  and  entered  into  the  shadowy 
swamj?.  Fears  began  to  assail  her  lest  she  should  meet 
some  of  the  wild  clan  who  might  be  coming  to  reconnoiter 
the  spot  where  they  meant,  later,  to  do  a  lawless  deed. 
What  had  become  of  the  horseman  she  had  heard  following 
her  when  she  was  on  her  way  to  carry  the  warning  ? 

Her  horse  was  begimning  to  show  signs  of  fatigue.  She 
patted  him  encouragingly.  The  swamp  road  was  not  so 
gloomy  as  it  had  been  when  she  rode  there  half  an  hour  be- 
fore. The  moon  had  risen  higher — gleams  of  light  pene- 
trated the  frost-thinned  boughs  of  ash  and  hackberry. 

Nero,  running  ahead,  began  to  sniff  the  air  suspiciously. 
Suddenly  he  uttered  the  sharp  bark  that  betrays  a  near  pres- 
ence. Adelle's  horse  stopped  and  threw  his  head  around, 
A  man  on  horseback  emerged  from  the  woods,  and  rode 
straight  to  her.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  turn  and  gallop 
back  to  Witchell's  house,  or  at  least  to  the  open  meadow 
beyond  these  dark  woods.  She  wheeled  her  horse  around, 
but  the  man  was  already  alongside.  His  hand  grasped  her 
bridle  rein. 

^^  Off  with  your  visor,  Sir  Knight,"  cried  Lanier's  mock- 
ing voice,  as  he  struck  off  her  cap  and  sent  her  long  hair 
tumbling  about  her  shoulders. 

He  laughed  hoarsely. 

''  Let's  have  a  better  view." 

He  struck  a  match  across  his  saddle  bow  and  held  the 
blaze  close  to  her.  It  showed  him  a  face  pale  as  death ; 
the  lips  firm,  but  the  dark  eyes  dilated  like  a  startled  deer's. 
A  wilder  fear  leaped  into  them  when  she  saw  his  look.  A 
sinister  gleam  gloated  in  his  blood-shot  eyes.  Eage  and  re- 
venge, fevered  into  delirium  by  liquor,  glared  close  to  her 


120  WILD    WORK. 

in  that  bluish  light.  She  saw,  with  a  shudder,  that  she  had 
to  deal  with  a  man  beside  himself. 

*^  Brave  knight/'  he  began,  tauntingly,  but  his  Yoice 
dropped  to  a  hissing  whisper  as  he  leaned  close  to  her  ear, 
'^  I  saw  you,  I  knew  you,  and  followed  you.  I  would  have 
caught  up  with  you  and  spoiled  your  fine  purpose,  if  this 
cursed  beast  had  held  out  as  he  ought.  So  you've  warned 
your  precious  lover.  He's  ready  for  us  yonder,  is  he,  with 
his  guns  and  his  nigger  guard  ?  You've  spoiled  our  game. 
Do  you  think  you  shall  not  pay  for  it  ?  You  shall.  You 
shall  pay  dearly  for  this,  and  for  having  played  your  tricks 
upon  me — fooled  me,  and  cast  me  off  for  this  Eadical  hound. 
He  shall  never  have  you  ;  no  one  shall  ever  have  you,  nor 
care  to.  You  shall  be  a  mark  for  scorn — Aha !  that's 
your  game,  is  it  ?  " 

He  caught  the  pistol  he  had  detected  her  in  drawing 
from  beneath  her  cloak.  He  tried  to  wrench  it  from  her 
hand,  but  her  slim  fingers  seemed  all  at  once  to  be  steel. 
Suddenly,  she  let  go  the  weapon.  He  had  released  his  hold 
upon  her  bridle  in  the  struggle,  and  a  word  and  a  quick 
blow  made  her  horse  bound  forward  in  the  direction  in 
which  she  had  wheeled  him  in  her  first  fright — the  direc- 
tion of  the  lake  and  of  Witchell's  house. 

Before  Lanier  had  recovered  from  his  surprise  at  this  sud- 
den movement,  she  was  some  distance  ahead.  He  dashed 
the  bloody  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks,  and  started  in  pur- 
suit. She  was  going  to  Witchell  to  seek  protection  from 
him.  He  would  follow  her ;  he  would  kill  them  both. 
Kage  and  jealousy  maddened  him.  He  was  not  a  brave 
man.  Cool  resistance  could  back  him  down  in  a  little 
while  ;  but  he  had  a  species  of  impetuous  frenzy  when  pas- 
sion or  strong  drink,  or  both  combined,  heated  his  blood. 

He  gnashed  out  a  curse  when  he  saw  her  approaching 
the  clearing. 


WILD    WORK,  121 

*'  Sfcop,  or  ril  shoot/'  he  called  out  to  her.  Directly  he 
heard  her  utter  a  cry  of  joyful  surprise  ;  he  saw  a  man  riding 
toward  her,  meeting  her  ;  he  heard  her  excited  exclamation, 
''  Captain  Witchell !    Thank  God  r' 

On  hearing  that  name  Lanier  experienced  an  inyolun- 
tary  check.  A  portion  of  his  mad  impetuosity  died  out. 
Whenever  an  animal,  whether  brute  or  man,  has  once  been 
whipped,  he  afterward,  in  the  presence  of  the  superior 
power,  instinctively  recognizes  his  master.  Lanier  felt  a 
burning  rage  against  his  rival,  but  his  nerves  also  gave 
token  that  they  remembered  that  good  blow  Witchell  had 
dealt  him  once.  While  he  hesitated  to  proceed,  he  heard  a 
horse  approaching  from  behind.  He  turned,  and  gave  a 
peculiar  whistle ;  it  was  answered  in  kind,  and  a  moment 
after  Derrick  rode  up  beside  him. 

"Lanier,"  he  demanded,  "what  the  deuce  did  you  mean 
by  slipping  off  in  this  way,  letting  nobody  know  when  you 
left?" 

"I  had  reason  to  think  that  news  was  being  carried  to 
Witchell.  I  came  to  reconnoiter.  I  expected  to  have  gone 
back  before  this.     Where  are  the  others  ?  " 

"  Coming  on  behind.  You  took  that  notion  to  recon- 
noiter very  suddenly.     What  have  you  found  out  ?  " 

"That  it's  all  up  as  to  our  plan  to  surprise  them. 
Witchell  got  hold  of  it." 

"  How  the  devil  could  that  be  ?  Who  knew  of  it  but 
ourselves  ?  " 

"One  other  found  it  out.  Love's  eyes  and  ears  are 
keen.  It  was  your  sister  that  gave  warning  to  Witchell. 
She  rode  here  by  herself,  dressed  as  a  boy,  and  went  to  his 
house." 

"  Adelle  !  my  sister  !  to  Witchell's  house  !  Take  that 
back,  or  you  shall  repent  it." 

"  It's  true  ;  you  can  see  for  yourself.    Yonder  they  are  ; 


122  WILD    WORK, 

she  was  coming  back,  he  riding  with  her.  They  have  dis- 
mounted, I  see,  for  some  cause.'* 

Derrick  looked,  and  saw  two  horses  and  two  figures 
standing  in  the  moonlight,  just  beyond  the  edge  of  the 
swamp,  nis  comrades,  Verne  and  Wylde,  were  just  riding 
up.  He  turned  to  them.  "Yonder's  my  man,"  he  said; 
**I  have  an  account  to  settle  with  him.  Don't  interfere 
with  me.     I  want  neither  help  nor  hindrance." 

He  spurred  his  horse  in  the  direction  in  which  the  two 
were  standing — Adelle  leaning  against  a  tree  to  support 
herself ;  "Witchell  standing  by,  holding  her  hand,  and  look- 
ing at  her  with  deep  concern.  At  the  instant  when,  flying 
from  Lanier,  she  had  met  Captain  "Witchell  and  stretched 
out  her  hands  to  him  with  that  cry  of  joy,  she  had  felt  her 
brain  whirling  and  her  strength  failing  her.  The  fatigue 
and  anxiety  she  had  undergone,  the  terror,  the  feeling  of 
relief  succeeded  by  the  sudden  sense  of  shame,  were  too 
much  for  her.  She  reeled  in  the  saddle,  and  Captain  Wit- 
chell reached  her  side  barely  in  time  to  prevent  her  falling. 
But  she  did  not  faint.  A  dash  of  dew  from  a  broken  bough 
in  the  hands  of  Captain  Witchell  revived  her.  She  gently 
pushed  him  from  her,  and  leaned  against  a  tree  for  support ; 
she  hid  her  face  in  the  dark  mass  of  her  hair,  and  sobbed 
in  shame  and  distress.  He  looked  at  her,  and  hesitated. 
Then  he  ventured  to  lay  his  hand  upon  her  arm. 

^•'MissHolman!" 

She  dropped  her  hands  from  her  face  and  wrung  them 
passionately. 

^'  0  Captain  Witchell,  what  must  you  think  of  me  ?" 

'*  That  you  are  a  brave  and  true  woman,  Miss  Holman. 
That  in  all  probability  I  owe  my  life  to  you." 

*^  Your  life  !"  she  cried  suddenly,  brought  to  a  recol- 
lection of  his  danger.  "  0  Captain  Witchell,  tliey  may  take 
your  life  here  at  any  moment.     They  will  fall  upon  you 


WILD    WORE.  123 

here,  and  you  have  no  help,  no  defense.  That  was  one  of 
them  you  saw  following  me  just  now.  Where  is  he  ?  He 
is  only  waiting  for  the  others  to  come  up  to  attack  you. 
Captain  "Witchell,  go  at  once.  Eide  to  a  place  of  safety,  or 
get  into  your  house  and  arm  your  friends.     Go  ! " 

**I  will  not  leave  you.  Miss  Holman.  Let  me  help  you 
to  mount  your  horse.  How  cold  your  hands  are,  and  how 
you  tremble  !  Do  not  be  afraid  any  more.  I  will  not  leave 
you  ;  I  will  ride  with  you  to  your  home." 

*'  But  you — it  is  you  who  are  in  danger  !  I  tell  you  they 
will  be  upon  you  in  a  few  moments.  There  !  do  you  not 
see  them  yonder  ?  They  are  coming  this  way.  0  Heaven  ! 
that  is  Derrick. " 

As  her  brother  leaped  from  his  horse,  she  sprang  to 
meet  him.  She  saw  that  he  held  a  pistol  in  his  hand,  and 
that  his  face  was  white  and  rigid  witli  determination. 

''0  Derrick,  listen  to  me  !" 

He  pushed  her  aside,  and  pressed  on  to  where  "Witchell 
stood. 

**  Villain,  your  time  has  come,"  he  cried,  raising  the 
weapon. 

Before  he  could  take  aim  Adelle  threw  herself  in  his 
arms  and  clung  to  him. 

"You  shall  not,  you  shall  not  kill  him,"  she  cried.  0 
Derrick,  he  saved  your  life  !  He  cared  for  you  while  you 
were  so  ill  with  the  fever.  He  watched  you  day  and  night 
when  you  were  delirious.  He  got  the  doctor  to  come  to 
you — the  negroes  to  wait  upon  you.  You  would  not  kill  a 
dog  that  had  saved  your  life.  Derrick. " 

'^No  thanks  to  him  for  my  life.  Better  be  dead  than 
dishonored.  A  villain  who  has  ruined  my  country,  and 
now  has  taken  away  the  good  name  of  my  family.  Curse 
him  !  Nothing  can  keep  me  from  having  it  out  with  him 
now.     Get  away  from  me,  girl." 


124  WILD    WORK, 

*' Derrick,  for  my  sake — " 

'^  Your  sake  !  Yours  !  What  are  you  to  me  now  ?  A 
wretch  that  has  disgraced  me.  What  are  you  to  me  any 
more  after  this  night's  work  ?  Get  away  with  you — out- 
cast." 

These  cruel  words  staggered  her  worse  than  blows  would 
have  done.  She  loosed  her  hold  of  him,  and  tottered  back. 
Witchell  stepped  quickly  to  her  side  ;  he  put  his  arm  around 
her  ;  facing  her  brother,  he  said  : 

"You  shall  not  speak  to  her  in  this  way.  You  may 
abuse  me  as  much  as  you  please,  but  you  shall  not  say  such 
words  to  my  wife." 

"Wife  ?"  echoed  Derrick,  the  pistol  he  had  half  raised 
dropping  to  his  side  in  his  astonishment. 

"  My  wife  that  shall  be  to-morrow.  She  had  a  right  to 
do  what  she  has  done  to-night  for  my  safety.  Derrick 
Holman,  listen  one  moment  to  common  sense.  You  need 
be  in  no  hurry  to  shoot.  I  am  unarmed  and  have  no  one 
in  call.  Hear  me  a  moment  first.  In  your  mad  passion 
you  would  only  burn  your  own  house.  You  would  kill  me 
and  fix  a  stigma  on  your  sister.  That  is  not  necessary. 
You  say  that  after  to-night  she  shaU  be  an  outcast  from 
your  home  ;  she  shall  be  received  in  mine  as  my  honored 
wife.  Is  not  this  better  for  her — for  you  and  your  parents 
— than  if  you  killed  me  and  left  her  no  refuge  ?  If  her 
brave  devotion  to-night  is  to  draw  reproach  upon  her,  let 
me  forestall  it  by  a  marriage. 

"  A  marriage  with  a  Radical  carpet-bagger  !  That  would 
be  a  fine  amendment,"  Derrick  said,  with  an  acrid  sneer. 

Captain  Witchell  bit  his  lip  hard.  He  was  controlling 
himself  by  an  effort,  for  the  sake  of  the  girl  by  his  side.  He 
answered  calmly : 

"It  might  hurt  your  pride;  it  would  not  hurt  your 
honor.     I  am  considering  her  first.     You  may  disclaim  her, 


WILD    WORK.  125 

but  would  you  not  prefer  to  know  that  she  was  happy  ? 
Have  you  not  so  much  natural  affection  for  one  of  your  own 
blood?" 

The  appeal  had  its  effect  upon  Derrick. 

His  real  love  for  his  sister,  his  pride  in  her  good  name 
and  in  the  good  name  of  his  family,  the  knowledge  of  Cap- 
tain Witchell's  past  kindness,  the  sense  of  his  generosity  and 
fearlessness  on  the  present  occasion,  all  operated  to  influence 
his  action.  He  stood  looking  at  the  two  for  an  undecided 
moment,  then  he  thrust  his  pistol  back  in  its  place,  and 
without  a  word  was  turning  to  remount  his  horse,  when 
Adelle  caught  his  hand,  and  looked  beseechingly  in  his  face. 

"  0  Derrick,  put  all  this  enmity  out  of  your  heart," 
she  pleaded.     "Be  friends  with  Captain  Witchell." 

"  Friends  !  Have  you  lost  your  senses,  girl  ?  I  trust 
to  GK)d  I  may  neyer  see  his  face  again.  Marrj  him,  go  with 
him,  but  remember  that  afterward  you  have  no  brother,  no 
father,  no  mother — you  have  only  liim.  Remember  that — 
and  be  happy — if  you  can." 

He  mounted  his  horse,  then  turning  as  if  a  thought 
struck  him,  he  said  to  Adelle  : 

*'  Get  into  your  saddle.  I  can  not  leave  you  here.  I 
am  going  now  to  send  those  others  on.  I  shall  be  back  for 
you  directly." 

He  rode  off  and  rejoined  Lanier  and  the  others,  who  had 
waited  where  he  left  them,  wondering  greatly  at  hearing  no 
report  of  a  pistol,  or  other  signs  of  combat. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  he  said  gloomily.  "  I 
can  not  kill  my  sister's  husband.  Eide  back.  I  will  follow 
you  in  a  little  while.  Lanier,  let  me  speak  a  word  in  your 
ear." 

Between  the  two  he  had  left  there  was  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment. Adelle's  bosom  swelled  with  conflicting  feelings. 
At  last  she  turned  to  Captain  Witchell : 


126  WILD    WORK. 

"  Why  did  you  say  that  ?"  she  said;  "■  I  will  not  have  it 
so.     There  can  be  no  marriage." 

He  answered  gravely  :  ^'I  hoped  otherwise.  I  know  it 
was  presumptuous  to  infer  your  consent,  but  I  thought  it 
for  the  best.     The  circumstances  were  such — I  thought —  " 

*'  You  thought  I  would  shelter  myself  from  blame  by 
marrying  a  man  who — " 

**AVhom  your  family  hate,  whom  your  friends  vilify, 
who  is  misunderstood  and  maligned.  It  teas  too  much  to 
expect." 

She  had  sat  down  upon  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  ;  her 
face  was  turned  from  him. 

*^No,  it  is  not  that,"  she  said,  low.  '^That  was  not 
what  I  meant  to  say ;  I  mean  that  I  will  never  consent  to 
take  what  was  offered  in  generous  pity.  I  will  bear  the  con- 
sequences of  my  own  act.  I  came  here  to-night  through  a 
good  motive.  I  dressed  this  way  because  I  thought  it  would 
protect  me  from  insult.  If  I  lose  friends  and  home  because 
of  it,  let  them  go.     The  world  is  wide,  and  I  can  find — " 

Her  voice  broke  and  a  sob  came.  He  sat  down  by  her. 
He  put  his  arm  around  her. 

*^So  the  world  is  wide,  and  you  can  find  a  nest  some- 
where, httle  dove  ?  Why  not  in  my  arms  ?  Why  do  you 
refuse  to  come  to  me  ?  " 

*'Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  you  said  that  to  my 
brother  only  to  shield  me  ?  I  will  not  make  it  true  ;  I  will 
not  accept  such  a  sacrifice." 

'*  You  will  not  marry  me  ?  " 

^^No." 

"  Not  if  it  is  no  sacrifice  ?    Not  if  I  love  you  ?  " 

"  But  you  do  not  love  me." 

He  drew  her  to  him.  "Not  love  you  ?  IIow  could  I 
help  loving  you  ;  brave,  kind  little  heart,  tender  eyes,  sweet, 
true  mouth  ?  " 


WILD    WOEK.  127 

He  put  back  the  hair  from  her  face,  and  kissed  her  wet 
lashes,  her  cheeks,  that  lost  their  paleness  under  the  rush 
of  burning  blushes. 

"  Will  you  marry  me  now  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer,  but  she  did  not  draw  away  from 
him. 

*'  Do  you  not  love  me,  Adelle  ?" 

''Yes." 

*'  But  not  well  enough  to  see  parents  and  friends  and 
the  little  world  around  you  turn  their  backs  on  you  for  my 
sake?" 

''  You  are  all  the  world  to  me,"  she  whispered,  hiding 
her  face  against  his  shoulder. 

He  was  silent,  gently  caressing  her  soft  hair.  He  felt 
that  he  had  the  destiny  of  this  girl  wholly  in  his  hands. 
She  was  his  to  the  heart's  core,  to  make  happy  or  miserable, 
as  he  chose. 

Presently  he  said  :  ''I  will  go  for  yqxi  to-morrow  ;  will 
you  be  ready  to  come  with  me  ?  " 

''Yes,  but— " 

"  What  is  it  ? 

"  If  I  could  be  married  in  my  father's  house." 

"That  rests: with  them;  we  will  see.  Let  me  put  you 
upon  your  horse  now.  I  hear  your  brother  coming.  Wrap 
your  cloak  well  around  you  ;  it  is  growing  cold." 

He  lifted  her  to  a  seat  in  the  saddle  and  stood  by  her 
until  Derrick  rode  up. 

"I  have  a  word  to  speak  to  you,  Mr.  Holman,"  he  said, 
going  up  to  the  young  man  as  he  sat  in  the  saddle.  Der- 
rick nodded  haughtily. 

"I  wish  to  marry  your  sister  to-morrow.  She  prefers 
that  it  should  be  at  her  pwn  home.  It  is  best,  for  other 
reasons." 

"  Under  my  father's  roof,  sir  ?    Never." 


128  WILD    WORE, 

"  He  is  also  her  father.  She  has  been  a  beloved  daugh- 
ter, a  dutiful  one,  except  in  one  instance,  where  she  obeyed 
the  promptings  of  her  heart.  She  has  certainly  a  right  to 
as  much  consideration  for  her  feelings  as  a  marriage  under 
her  father's  roof  would  imply.  But  it  matters  little.  A 
marriage  anywhere  else  will  be  as  well." 

'*  Stay,  sir !  Come  to  my  father's  house  prepared  to 
make  Adelle  Holman  your  wife.  Bring  your  witnesses ; 
you  will  find  none  there  who  will  witness  this  marriage." 

"  Very  well."    He  turned  to  Adelle. 

'*Does  this  please  you  ?" 

She  gave  him  her  hand  in  silence. 

^*  Come,"  called  her  brother,  sharply. 

They  rode  away,  leaving  Witchell  standing  there  in  the 
moonlight,  looking  after  them,  feeling  almost  as  if  all  had 
been  a  dream.  Could  it  be  that  in  a  few  moments  so  great 
a  change  had  taken  place  in  the  future  he  had  mapped  out 
for  himself  ?  To  be  married  in  a  few  hours — married  to 
the  daughter  of  his  bitter  enemy — a  girl  of  whose  nature 
he  had  had  only  glimpses,  of  whose  more  hidden  and  subtile 
traits  of  character  he  knew  nothing.  Could  he  make  her 
happy  ?  All  that  money  or  kindness  could  do  should  be 
done  to  supply  the  place  of  what  she  must  lose  through 
him.     As  for  love — " 

But  how  sweet  her  face  had  looked  in  the  moonlight 
when  he  had  lifted  it  to  kiss  her.  The  eyes  that  shone 
through  tears,  the  red  lips  that  quivered  so,  the  little,  deli- 
cately molded  chin,  the  white  neck  under  its  veil  of  hair  ? 
How  her  heart  had  throbbed  against  his  !  And  that  little, 
earnest,  thrilling,  yet  timid,  whisper  : 

"  You  are  all  the  world  to  me."  Its  remembered  pathos 
touched  his  heart. 

"  I  will  try  to  be  all  to  her.  She  shall  not  miss  the  love 
of  father  and  mother,  and  the  society  of  friends,"  he  said, 


WILD    WORE.  129 

as  lie  stepped  upon  the  piazza  of  his  house/  He  had  almost 
forgotten  the  plotted  attack.  The  bolted  door  and  barri- 
caded windows  reminded  him  of  it.  He  knocked  on  the 
door,  calling  out  : 

^atisl;  open." 

Within,  a  dim  light  was  burning.  Three  negro  men 
with  guns  in  their  hands  stood  there,  looking  at  him  in- 
quiringly. 

''  Go  home,  and  to  bed,"  he  said.  '^  There  is  to  be  no 
attack  ;  I  have  settled  it. " 

They  asked  no  questions.  They  were  accustomed  to 
think  Captain  Witchell  could  do  whatever  he  wished. 
They  believed  he  bore  a  charmed  life.  He  had  been  in 
danger  so  often— shot  at,  threatened  by  mobs— without 
harm  coming  to  him. 

Devene  was  not  so  easily  satisfied.  "  What  did  you  do  ? 
How  did  you  settle  it  ?"  he  asked,  when  they  were  alone  in 
their  room. 

''I  saw  the  ringleader,  and  induced  him  to  forego  his 
fun  for  to-night.  Instead  of  being  hanged,  I  am  only  to 
be—" 

''  What  ?  "  asked  Devene,  in  suspense. 

''  Sit  down.  Take  a  cigar,  and  hand  me  one.  What, 
only  one  o'clock  !  How  many  events  can  crowd  into  a  lit- 
tle hour  ! " 

He  stirred  the  rich  bed  of  wood  coals  and  threw  on  a 
fresh  pine-knot.  Then  looking  across  at  his  companion 
through  a  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke,  and  smiling  in  his  pe- 
culiar way,  he  said : 

"  Devene,  you  must  put  off  your  trip  to  N ;  I  want 

you  to  go  to  Colonel  Holman's  with  me  to-day.     I  am  to 
be  married." 


130  WILD    WORK, 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


The  slant  afternoon  snn  was  shining  upon  the  little 
riverside  town  of  Cohatchie,  upon  the  white  cottages  with 
bright  green  blinds,  the  new  brick  stores,  side  by  side  with 
w^ooden  shanties,  and  the  cupola  of  the  really  handsome 
court-house.  The  town  had  the  irregular  appearance  that 
marks  a  new  place,  but  the  bales  of  cotton  piled  before  the 
warehouse,  and  the  amount  of  freight  in  boxes  and  barrels 
which  a  steamboat,  petulantly  puffing  at  the  landing,  had 
just  discharged,  told  of  thrift  and  business. 

Captain  WitchelFs  scheme  in  this  direction  had  suc- 
ceeded. The  new  parish  had  been  created,  the  new  court- 
house erected,  the  new  town  built  up  rapidly  around  it, 
drawing  the  produce  and  trade  of  the  rich  alluvial  region 
above  and  below  it,  and  of  the  thrifty  *^ Hills"  lying  at  its 
back.  Witcheirs  town  bade  fair  to  become  of  considerable 
importance.  His  plantation  was  two  miles  above  it  and  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river — an  ample,  old-fashioned 
house  in  a  grove  of  trees  with  broad  fields  lying  back  of  it 
and  stretching  along  the  river  on  either  hand.  Having 
perfect  control  of  the  negroes,  he  could,  through  their  labor, 
make  these  level,  fertile  acres  yield  the  splendid  returns  of 
cotton  that  had  brought  their  former  owner  a  princely  in- 
come in  slavery  days. 

Various  industries  which  had  sprung  up  about  the  plan- 
tation under  Captain  Witchell's  management  bore  evidence 
to  his  New  England  activity  and  enterprise.  A  mill  with 
the  most  improved  machinery  turned  out  lumber  and  ground 
the  plentiful  grain  of  the  neighborhood,  a  well-stocked 
storehouse  furnished  customers,  mostly  the  negroes  be- 
longing to  the  place  and  to  neighboring  plantations,  with 
provisions  and  other  merchandise  suited  to  their  wants ; 


WILD    WO  UK  131 

various  offices  and  outbuildings  gave  a  village  look  to  the 
place ;  a  printing-press,  almost  in  the  very  yard,  absorbed 
the  public  printing,  and  turned  into  Captain  Witchell's 
hands  the  public  money  appropriated  therefor. 

These  industries,  circling  more  immediately  around  his 
home,  were  carried  on  at  the  same  time  with  outside  enter- 
prises of  a  broader  scope.  •  Contracts  for  the  erection  of 
public  buildings  in  the  new  county  site  he  had  created ; 
the  improvement  and  sale  of  lots  therein  ;  the  buying  in 
and  turning  to  good  account  of  real  estate  sold  for  taxes  or 
for  debts ;  the  extension  of  his  influence  with  the  people 
of  the  section  and  with  his  party  at  large ;  these  schemes 
fully  occupied  the  time  and  brain  of  the  energetic  member 
of  the  State  Senate.  They  were  regarded  by  him  as  merely 
the  beginning  of  greater  things. 

He  was  becoming  rich  and  influential — he  was  paving 
the  way  to  greater  power,  to  more  extended  opportunities 
of  building  up  a  vast  fortune.  He  confided  his  plans  to  no 
one,  not  even  to  Adelle,  devoted  wife  as  she  was,  making 
him  her  loving  but  painful  study  ;  nor  yet  to  the  members 
of  his  own  family,  whom  he  had  gathered  around  him  and 
made  sharers  in  his  prosperity  and  strengthen  ers  of  his 
position.  Two  of  these  were  his  brothers-in-law — young 
men,  full  of  hope  and  activity,  eager  to  make  their  for- 
tunes, but  fully  under  the  control  of  Witchell,  whose  ex- 
perience and  firm  will  gave  him  perfect  mastery  over  them. 
He  had  obtained  an  office  for  each  of  these.  Mark  Hollin 
was  appointed  supervisor  of  registration,  and  settled  with 
his  pretty,  fair-haired  wife  upon  a  plantation  below  Co- 
hatchie  which  Witchell  had  bought  for  him.  Wallace, 
the  husband  of  another  sister,  was  made  a  magistrate, 
and  given  also  the  supervision  of  the  numerous  interests  on 
Witchell's  estate. 

Both  were  prepossessing  young  men,  calculated  to  make 


132  WILD    WORK. 

friends  for  themselves  and  Witchell,  and  to  wear  off  gradu- 
ally the  edge  of  aversion  with  which  the  Eadical  ring  was 
regarded.  But  the  one  upon  whom  Witchell  relied  most 
was  his  only  brother.  Yousg  Omar  Witchell  was  not  brill- 
iant, nor  was  he  masterful  like  his  elder  brother.  Reserved 
in  general  society,  though  to  his  friends  he  talked  with  a 
candid  almost  childish  earnestness,  quiet  in  manner  and 
grave  of  face,  except  when  he  smiled  ;  tall,  dark,  deliberate 
of  speech  and  action,  impressing  you  with  the  idea  of  a 
kindly,  unsuspicious,  loyal  nature — this  was  Omar  Wit- 
chell ;  as  unlike  the  ordinary  type  of  New-Englander  as  one 
can  imagine,  and  the  direct  opposite  of  his  brother,  who 
with  his  incisive  eye,  sanguine  color,  thin  lij^s,  and  firm 
chin,  seemed  born  to  sweep  away  obstructing  circumstances, 
not  to  be  patient  under  them. 

But  there  was  hardly  a  being  in  the  world  that  Marshall 
Witchell  believed  in  as  he  did  in  this  quiet  young  brother. 

It  was  not  wholly  a  selfish  gratification  in  having  secured 
a  trustworthy  assistant  that  made  him  so  delighted  when 
welcoming  Omar  to  his  new  home.  As  he  folded  the  young 
fellow  in  his  arms,  the  night  when  he  stepped  from  the 
steamboat  upon  the  soil  of  the  stranger  country,  it  was  a 
pure  emotion  that  stirred  under  the  worldliness  that  in- 
crusted  the  elder  man's  nature.  A  tenderness  almost  pater- 
nal thrilled  in  his  voice,  as,  putting  his  hands  on  Omar's 
shoulders  and  looking  into  his  clear  eyes,  he  said  : 

"  Old  fellow,  it  does  me  good  to  see  you.  I  hope,  Omar, 
you'll  do  well  here.  I  believe  you  will,  or  I  shouldn't  have 
got  you  to  come.  I  trust  you  may  never  have  cause  to  re- 
gret it." 

Omar  Witchell  had  been  appointed  tax-collector,  and 
on  this  sunny  afternoon  he  sat  in  his  office  at  Cohatchie. 
The  breeze  came  in  at  the  open  window  and  stirred  the 
dark  locks  on  his  temples,  and  freshened  the  two  or  three 


WILD   WORK.  133 

flowers  that  bloomed  in  a  little  glass  beside  him  as  he  sat 
leaning  his  elbow  on  his  desk,  and  resting  his  chin  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand  in  a  brown  study.  He  did  not  hear  the 
rap  of  a  cane  on  the  threshold  of  his  open  door,  and  looked 
up  in  some  confusion  as  a  finely-formed  man,  with  a  keen 
eye,  but  a  look  of  beneyolent  humor  about  his  mouth, 
tapped  him  upon  the  shoulder. 

*^  I  beg  your  pardon,  Judge  Pickenson.     I  did  not  see 

you.- 

'^N"o-;  your  thoughts  were  oS  wool-gathering.  How 
far,  eh  ?  No  farther,  I  imagine,  than  a  certain  cottage 
where  I  saw  somebody  sitting  at  the  window  as  I  came 
along." 

"  Oh,  a  good  deal  farther,  sir.  '  Over  the  hills  and  far 
away.'  It's  not  often  I  get  homesick,  but  to-day  some- 
thing— the  scent  of  these  flowers,  may  be,  or  the  look  of 
the  white  clouds  piled  up  yonder — ^has  set  me  to  thinking 
of  the  mountains,  and  longing  to  see  them." 

''The  mountains,  or  the  maid  of  the  mountains? — 
'  The  girl  I  left  behind  me  ? ' "  queried  the  Judge,  play- 
fully. "But  really,  Omar,  honor  bright,  how  do  you  like 
our  folks  here  in  Dixie  ?  " 

"Better  than  they  like  me,  I  am  afraid.  I  have  two 
or  three  good  friends  here,  but  the  others — ^when  I  come 
where  they  are — seem  to  freeze  up  as  if  I  carried  an  arctic 
atmosphere  along  with  me.  They  look  at  me  as  if  they  ex- 
pected me  at  any  moment  to  develop  some  sinister  aspect." 

"  The  horns  and  hoofs  of  the  Old  One,  probably." 

"  That  hurts  me,  you  know.  I  don't  like  to  be  looked 
upon  with  suspicion.  I  feel  very  friendly  toward  the  peo- 
ple here.  They  seem  so  pleasant  with  each  other  ;  all  the 
more  I  hate  being  left  out  in  the  cold.  But  I  hope  I  may 
succeed  in  making  them  like  me  yet." 

"I  think  you  will.     They  have  thawed  wonderfully  to 


131:  WILD    WORK. 

you.  They  have  been  badly  treated,  no  doubt  about  it,  and 
still  have  deep  grounds  for  grievance.  I  have  run  on  your 
party  ticket,  Omar,  partly  because  I  had  bitter  need  of  the 
income  the  office  would  bring,  for  my  children's  sake,  but 
more  because  I  hoped  to  do  some  good  by  restraining  on 
one  hand  and  conciliating  on  the  other  ;  but,  for  all  that,  I 
don't  endorse  the  present  policy  of  the  Government  toward 
my  country.  It's  founded  on  ignorance  of  our  people's 
wants  and  dispositions,  or  on  revengeful  disregard  of  their 
rights ;  but  come  ;  don't  let's  talk  about  any  such  crabbed 
thing  as  politics  this  lovely  afternoon.  I  hope  all  will 
con^e  right  after  a  while.  I  think  things  would  right  them- 
selves slowly  here  in  this  district,  if  there  wasn't  a  secret, 
disturbing  influence  beginning  to  work  just  now.  Some- 
thing is  brewing,  mark  my  words.  And  disappointed  ava- 
rice is  the  leaven  of  the  ferment.  Some  men  that  have  been 
loudest  in  denouncing  Captain  Witchell's  plundering,  as 
they  call  it,  are  mad  as  Lucifer  because  they  can't  get  his 
chance." 

"What  has  my  brother  done  to  make  them  denounce 
him  so  strongly.  Judge  Pickenson  ?  " 

**  Oh,  no  more  than  others  in  the  same  position  have 
done  and  are  doing.  He  has  carried  out  the  policy  of  his 
party  with  regard  to  upholding  the  negro,  and  he  has  made 
use  of  the  opportunities  his  position  gave  him  to  enrich 
himself." 

''Legitimate  opportunities,  of  course  ?" 

Judge  Pickenson  evaded  the  young  man^s  questioning 
eye,  and  went  on  : 

''  Others  right  here  are  precious  anxious  to  secure  the 
same  opportunities,  or  el^en  to  go  shares  in  what  they  are 
pleased  to  call  the  spoils — Democrats  and  leaders  of  tlie 
opposition  though  they  pretend  to  be.  You  know  Colonel 
Alver  ;  what  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 


WILD    WORK  135 

*'  He  seems  polite,  and  even  suave,  of  late.  But  there 
seems  every  now  and  then  a  false  ring  in  his  voice,  and  his 
cold  blue  eye  contradicts  his  friendly  speeches.  But  this 
impression  may  be  unfounded  and  unjust." 

*'  No ;  it  is  nature's  warning.  It  tells  you  to  be- 
ware ! " 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  an  invitation  to  a  little  party  at 
his  house  to-night." 

"  So  have  I ;  and  it's  funny.  He  hates  me  like  poison, 
because  I  succeeded  in  getting  the  office  I  hold ;  he  hates 
Witchell,  and  has  until  lately  openly  abused  him.  Awhile 
back,  he  would  not  speak  to  any  member  of  the  Radical 
party  ;  now  he  has  suddenly  grown  friendly.  I  guessed  the 
secret  before  I  saw  your  brother  last  Friday ;  I  found  out 
from  him  that  Alver  has  been  making  overtures  in  a  deli- 
cate way.  He  wants  to  be  admitted  into  the  ring  of  the 
*  Plunderers.*  He  is  anxious  to  get  in,  and  asks  a  small  slice 
of  the  booty.  By  and  by,  he  would  want  the  lion's  share. 
He  is  a  tyrant  by  nature.  The  position  he  had  as  head  of  a 
regiment  in  the  late  war  pampered  this  love  of  ruling  men 
and  overriding  them.  Then  he  came  here,  when  this  little 
town  first  began  to  grow.  He  put  up  a  store,  and  went  into 
business.  He  aimed  to  monopolize  all  the  trade — to  make 
himself  the  big  man  of  the  town — the  Great  Mogul.  The 
Lisson  Brothers  also  put  up  a  store  at  the  other  end  of  the 
town.  Their  real  cleverness  drew  better  than  Alver's  surface 
politeness.  Trade  flowed  chiefly  to  the  Lisson  end  of  the 
town.  "When  Witchell  was  ready  to  build  the  new  court- 
house, each  rival  party  put  in  a  bid  to  get  it  built  at  his  end 
of  the  town.  The  bids  were  in  lots  ;  Messrs.  Lisson  outbid 
Alver  in  the  number  and  desirability  of  lots  they  offered 
Witchell  as  inducements  to  erect  the  court-house  on  their 
portion  of  Cohatchie.  It  was  built  there,  the  warehouse  also 
put  there  ;  and  a  friendly  relation,  some  say  a  business  un- 


136  WILD    WORK. 

derstanding,  was  established  between  the  Lissons  and  Wit- 
chelL  This  drew  the  negro  trade — an  important  item  here, 
where  darkies  handle  so  much  money — to  Lisson's  store — 
the  quarter  that  Captain  Witchell  seemed  to  favor.  There 
grew  up  two  factions,  and  it  was  '  under  which  flag,  Bezo- 
nian  ?  speak,  or  die  ! '  Alver  and  his  clique  were  hot 
against  Lisson  and  his  friends — the  Radical  ring,  as  they 
called  them.  The  Lissons  shrugged  their  shoulders  in 
good-natured  contempt.  You  saw  plenty  of  all  this,  Omar, 
after  you  came.  Lately,  you  must  have  remarked  a  change. 
Alver  has  altered  his  tactics.  He  has  grown  mild,  almost 
affectionate.  The  secret  is  that  next  year  there  will  be  an 
election,  and  Alver  means  to  make  a  desperate  effort  to  get 
into  the  ring  he  pretends  to  scorn.  He  has  made  numerous 
friendly  advances  to  Witchell  in  private  ;  now  he  comes  out 
openly  and  extends  the  hand  of  amity.  He  wants  to  receive 
something  besides  good- will  in  return.  You  will  see  him  drop 
the  sheepskin  and  show  the  true  wolf  when  he  is  refused 
admittance  into  the  fold,  as  he  is  sure  to  be,  for  Witchell 
understands  him.  He  will  take  no  man  into  association 
with  him,  overbearing  as  he  knows  this  one  to  be.  When 
Alver  finds  out  there  is  no  use  to  knock  any  longer  at  this 
door,  look  out  for  a  change  of  strategy.  He  will  return 
to  his  old  position,  and  be  a  more  bitter  opponent  than 
ever.  He  will  be  more  cunning  and  cool  though,  and  work 
with  more  system.  He  will  try  to  undermine  ;  he  will  set 
secret  wheels  to  work  ;  he  will  not  rest  until  he  has  wrought 
mischief." 

Omar  looked  down  on  the  floor  ;  his  face  was  clouded. 

"The  game  does  not  amuse  or  even  interest  me,"  he 
said.  '*It  seems  wrong  and  mean.  I  trust  no  harm  will 
come  to  Marshall.  I  am  sure  my  brother's  aims  are  good. 
He  looks  forward.  He  means  to  do  what  he  can  to  restore 
the  people  to  prosperity.     He  will  spend  the  money  he  has 


WILD    WORK.  13T 

mude  right  here  in  enterprises  for  the  public  good.  How 
he  made  the  money,  I  have  not  asked  him.  I  don't  under- 
stand the  mysteries  of  finance  or  politics.  I  don't  compre- 
hend the  secrets  of  trading  and  speculating  ;  Marshall  does. 
He  has  a  head  for  all  these  things  ;  and  then  he  has  a  heart 
— you  do  not  know  what  a  heart  he  has.  Even  his  enemies 
own  he  is  helpful  to  the  poor,  but  they,  and  even  his 
friends,  even  you,  think  that  money-getting  is  his  passion. 
If  you  knew  his  earlier  history,  you  would  understand  him 
better.  When  my  father  died,  fifteen  years  ago,  our  in- 
come died  with  him,  and  a  large,  helpless  family  was  left 
upon  my  brother's  hands.  I  was  too  young  to  be  of  any 
use  ;  the  others  were  girls,  my  mother  an  invalid.  It  was 
a  heavy  burden  for  a  boy's  shoulders.  How  nobly  Marshall 
bore  it ;  how  he  worked,  economized,  sacrificed  ;  how  he 
put  aside  all  temptation  to  self-indulgence,  personal  ambi- 
tion, and  love — yes,  a  strong  first  passion  that  tempted  him 
more  than  anything  ;  how  he  gave  up  all  these  for  the  duty 
of  supporting  his  mother,  of  educating  and  providing  far 
his  sisters  and  brother  ;  all  that  would  make  a  long  story,  if 
I  should  tell  it.  When  war  came,  he  had  succeeded  in  making 
us  comfortable.  He  went  as  a  private  soldier ;  afterward, 
his  good  conduct  raised  him  from  the  ranks.  He  sent  us 
regularly  nearly  every  dollar  of  his  pay.  The  war  closed  ; 
as  a  reward  for  his  services  he  was  given  a  post  here.  He 
was  successful,  and  made  money.  Sickness  and  other  mis- 
fortunes had  brought  debt  and  distress  at  home.  He  re- 
leased us  from  that  bondage.  He  made  it  possible  for  my 
sisters  to  marry  the  men  of  their  choice.  At  length  he  has 
brought  us  all  here,  where  he  feels  our  well-being  still  a 
responsibility  upon  him.  Can  one  wonder  he  has  made 
money-getting  something  of  a  passion  ?  It  had  been  a 
binding  duty  so  long,  it  is  not  strange  it  should  become 
second  nature.     Circumstances  forced  his  thoughts  into 


138  WILD    WORK. 

that  one  channel  so  long  ;  and  now  he  is  making  it  minis- 
ter to  his  ambition." 

"And  to  his  love.  That's  a  sweet  woman  he  has  mar- 
ried at  last." 

**  Adelle  ?  She  is  the  tenderest,  the  most  devoted  creat- 
ure I  ever  saw.  I  wish,  from  my  soul,  Marshall  had  met 
such  a  woman  and  married  her  earlier.  You  knew  her  as 
a  girl,  Judge  Pickenson ;  was  she  gay,  light-hearted  ?  " 

''She  was  merry  enough.  There  was  always  a  touch 
of  gentle  dignity  about  her,  and  a  shade  of  romance — just 
enough  to  give  a  depth  and  sweetness  to  her  nature.  She 
is  changed.  I  saw  her  last  week.  She  is  pale,  and  looks 
absent  and  preoccupied.  She  ought  to  go  more  into  so- 
ciety." 

''  She  ought.  Marshall  must  insist  on  it.  Even  when 
they  go  to  New  Orleans  he  says  she  is  almost  as  much  of 
a  recluse  as  she  is  here.  The  truth  is,  he  is  her  world  ;  her 
thoughts  all  center  in  him.  When  he  is  away  she  watches 
for  his  coming,  and  her  color  rises  as  soon  as  she  catches 
sight  of  him.  Poor  girl !  Her  parents  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  her  ;  her  brother  treats  her  like  a  stranger  ;  she 
has  given  them  all  up  for  Marshall.  It  seems  to  me,  if  I 
were  he,  I  could  never  show  my  appreciation  of  her  enough. 
He  loves  her,  I  know  ;  he  is  kind,  too.  But  you  see  he  is 
occupied  with  other  things.  This  is  all  between  ourselves, 
you  know.  I  could  not  discuss  Marshall's  affairs  vrith  any 
one  but  his  friend — his  true  friend,  as  I  believe. " 

*' You  are  right ;  I  am  Captain  Witchell's  friend,  or  I 
should  not  have  associated  myself  with  him.  He  has  done 
some  things  I  have  not  approved  of,  and  I  have  told  him 
so,  as  friend  to  friend.  I  have  advised  him,  too — but  no 
matter.  He  is  a  sharp  fellow,  and  luck  is  with  him.  He 
may  be  able  to  ride  into  the  port  he  aspires  after,  on  the 
present  high  tide  of  fortune,  over  the  breakers  that  I  see 


WILD    WORK.  139 

ahead.  No  more  of  that  now.  Lock  up  your  books  ;  get 
your  hat,  and  come  with  me  for  a  long  walk.  Let's  go  and 
get  a  late  paper  oif  the  Marie  Louise.  She  is  still  at  the 
landing  discharging  Alver's  freight.  Look  at  Alver,  stand- 
ing yonder  on  the  plank,  directing  matters  and  hectoring 
the  deck-hands.  To  order  roustabouts  is  better  than  not 
to  order  anybody.  He  ought  to  have  been  born  across  the 
water — a  Russian  Count,  with  a  parcel  of  quaking  tenants 
under  his  thumb." 

**  Is  that  his  wife  holding  a  little  girl  by  the  hand  who 
has  Just  come  up  to  him  ?" 

"  Sly  rogue  !  you  know  it  isn't.  You  are  very  well 
aware  that  it  is  Miss  Reese — the  fair  Floyd.  I  saw  her  at  a 
window  as  I  passed  Captain  Alver's,  posing  as  if  for  a 
picture.  She's  not  the  usual  style  of  schoolma'arm  at  all, 
at  all.  More  like  a  stage-queen.  Alver  shows  his  taste  in 
female  looks  in  choosing  a  governess,  though  I  fancy  he 
appreciates  her  excellence  in  that  line  more  than  his  wife 
does.  But  I  must  take  care ;  I  believe  you  are  attracted  in 
that  quarter." 

"So  far  as  to  think  Miss  Floyd  Reese  a  handsome 
woman,  with  fascinating  ways.  But  my  heart  is  safe,  for  I 
left  it  in  the  Green  Mountains.  I  have  told  you  so  much 
of  my  family  affairs  ;  I  may  as  well  confide  this  secret.  I 
am  engaged  to  a  dear  little  girl  at  home — another  school- 
ma'arm— and  I  shall  marry  her  soon.  We  have  waited  five 
years ;  now,  thanks  to  Marshall's  goodness,  I  am  able  to 
marry  her.  She  is  not  as  handsome  as  Miss  Reese,  but  a 
dear,  bright,  little  woman,  and  will  make  a  good  wife." 

**  Well !  she'll  have  a  good  husband,  Omar.  I  hoped 
you  might  have  married  one  of  our  Southern  girls,  as  your 
brother  did — not  Miss  Reese,  though  ;  she's  fine  to  look  at, 
but  when  one  thinks  of  her  as  a  wife  there  comes  a  dash  of 
cold  water  on  his  enthusiasm.  Stick  to  your  little  Yankee 
7 


140  WILD    WORK. 

girl ;  bring  her  down  here,  and  put  her  in  that  pretty  little 
house  you  are  having  built.  We'll  adopt  her  as  one  of  us. 
Hi  !  there  goes  tlie  Louise's  whistle.  What  lady  is  that 
who  has  just  got  off  the  boat  and  is  coming  up  the  bank  ? 
Why,  it's  Miss  Zoe  Vincent.  She  has  come  up  to  the  party 
at  Alver's  to-night,  I  imagine.  She  lives  three  miles  below 
here  with  her  brother.     Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  she  is  Adelle's  friend.  She  came  to  see  her  not 
long  ago.  I  have  never  seen  Adelle  show  so  much  pleasure 
at  meetmg  any  one.  She  seemed  quite  glad  and  girlish  for 
a  while.  Miss  Vincent  is  beautiful ;  such  a  glorious  black 
eye,  such  a  proud  poise  to  her  little  head  !  You  needn't 
look  at  me  in  that  quizzical  way.  Judge.  She  is  engaged 
as  well  as  I  am.     Adelle  told  me  so." 

*^  Yes  ;  so  I  heard  three  years  ago,  when  she  first  came 
here.  To  some  young  lawyer  in  New  Orleans,  and  they 
were  to  marry  right  away,  said  Madame  Rumor.  Odd,  no 
such  match  has  come  off  yet.  To  a  girl  like  her  it  must 
be  awful  lonesome  down  there  on  her  brother's  plantation. 
But  I  think  she  lives  a  great  deal  in  '  dreams  and  stately- 
stepping  fancies.'  She  is  not  like  the  average  girl ;  has 
more  soul ;  plenty  of  nerve,  too.  I  saw  that  tested  two 
years  ago.  I  was  with  her  on  the  steamer  Alethea  when  it 
burned  up,  just  above  Baton  Eouge,  and  when  most  of  the 
passengers — she  among  them — would  have  been  lost  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  the  coolness  of  one  fellow,  a  long  haired 
Texan,  quick  as  a  cat  and  sinewy  as  a  buffalo.  He  got  a  lot 
of  us  safely  off  in  a  boat,  but  somehow  Zoe  was  left  behind, 
and  he  swam  ashore  with  her.  She  had  a  chill  after  she 
reached  the  bank  ;  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  the  Texan 
taking  care  of  her  ;  respectful  and  delicate  as  if  he  had  been 
a  gentleman  instead  of  a  gambling  dare-devil.  We  had  to 
stay  on  the  bank  all  night ;  no  boat  came  along  to  pick  us 
up.     Vincent,  Zoe's  brother,  was  drinking  (some  of  our  best 


WILD    WORK.  lj,l 

fellows  luill  get  on  a  spree  when  they  go  to  the  city),  so  Zoe 
was  left  pretty  much  to  the  Texan's  care.  I  saw  him  fairly 
carrying  her  across  to  the  boat  when  one  at  last  came  along. 

She  must  have  had  a  civilizing  effect  on  him,  for  he 
drank  no  more  that  trip  ;  he  had  his  beard  trimmed,  and  he 
only  let  slip  an  oath  now  and  then.  Vincent  had  lost  mon- 
ey to  him  at  poker  on  the  Alethea  ;  now  he  let  him  win  it 
back,  and  more  besides.  We  all  saw  he  only  played  to  lose. 
He  sent  fruits  and  ices  to  Miss  Zoe,  and  charged  the  waiter 
not  to  tell  where  they  came  from.  About  an  hour  before 
the  boat  would  reach  Vincent's  place,  whom  should  I  see  in 
the  ladies'  cabin  but  that  Texan,  begging  Zo  efor  a  song. 
He  had  got  into  a  black  coat  and  wore  a  subdued,  really 
gentlemanly  look.  When  we  landed  at  her  brother's  home, 
Vincent  was  seeing  after  his  freight,  and  asked  me  to  help 
his  sister  off  the  boat.  I  went  up  to  offer  my  services,  but 
the  Texan  was  there.  He  glared  at  me  as  though  he  would 
like  to  call  me  out,  and  seized  Miss  Vincent's  hand.  She 
blushed  red,  but  did  not  look  displeased.  I  heard  afterward 
that  he  was  a  noted  desperado." 

"  How  do  you  know,  Judge,  that  this  little  adventure  is 
not  the  secret  of  Miss  Vincent's  failing  to  marry  the  New 
Orleans  lawyer  ?  " 

"  Pshaw  !  a  fellow  like  that.  She  has  hardly  thought 
of  him  since.     Omar,  you  are  as  romantic  as  a  girl." 

'^  Miss  Eeese  is  looking  at  us  ;  shall  we  go  up  and  speak 
to  her?" 

"  Not  I.  She  is  standing  by  Alver.  I  never  seek  his 
society.     I  sha'n't  go  to  his  house  to-night." 

*'  I  do  not  think  my  brother  will ;  nor  shall  I,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  You'll  change  your  mind  after  you  have  spoken  to  Miss 
Floyd.  There  she  is,  beckoning  you  with  her  fan.  Go  and 
speak  to  her." 


142  WILD    WORE, 

As  Omar  walked  away,  Judge  Pickenson's  eyes  followed 
him  with  a  shrewd  yet  kindly  look. 

"  Good-hearted  but  simple  fellow,"  he  muttered.  ^^  Looks 
on  that  sharp  brother  of  his  as  a  sort  of  demigod  ;  will 
make  a  capital  cat's-paw.  I  don't  like  the  notion  of  his 
getting  burnt,  though  ;  and  he  will  get  burnt,  I  am  much 
afraid. " 

The  sun  had  set ;  the  townspeople  strolled  to  the  river 
bank.  Judge  Pickenson  soon  had  a  knot  of  his  friends 
around  him.  He  was  liked  by  many,  despite  his  position  as 
the  only  prominent  Southerner  of  the  district  who  held 
office  under  the  Radical  administration.  His  independent 
character,  his  well-known  courage,  and  the  consideration  he 
had  won  as  captain  of  a  daring  Confederate  cavalry  corps  in 
the  war,  made  even  his  enemies  treat  him  with  outward  re- 
spect, thought  they  cursed  him  behind  his  back  as  a  ^*  hanger- 
on  of  the  robber  ring."  He  did  not  condescend  to  defend  his 
position.  He  held  that  he  had  a  right  to  accept  office,  and 
to  treat  his  Northern  fellow-officials  as  human  beings.  No 
doubt  some  of  the  "carpet-baggers"  v/ere  rogues  and  ras- 
cals. Rogues  and  rascals  were  to  be  found  everywhere. 
No  doubt  others,  fairly  sound  in  principle  at  first,  had  been 
over-tempted  by  the  wide  opportunities  for  arbitrary  power 
and  extortion  that  the  abnormal  condition  of  things  at  the 
South  threw  in  the  way  of  office-holders.  Didn't  they  know 
of  good  Southerners  who  would  be  tempted  to  fleece  the 
flock,  if  the  gap  was  let  down  to  them  in  the  same  way  ? 

*^  The  temptation  to  play  the  autocrat  is  mighty  strong 
for  the  human  worm,"  the  Judge  would  say,  lying  back 
philosophically  in  his  chair,  his  hands  locked  behind  his 
head.  "And  the  temptation  to  make  money  by  ways  that 
are  dark  is  stronger  still — has  the  fascination  of  freeboot- 
ing  and  smuggling.  Why,  I  have  had  to  have  *  Deliver  us 
from  temptation '  framed  in  big  capitals  over  my  bed-foot ; 


WILD    WORK.  143 

and  now  I  find  myseK  getting  up  without  opening  my 
eyes." 

There  was  one  man  of  the  ''  Ring  "  whom  Judge  Picken- 
son  would  not  affiliate  with.  This  was  Yent,  the  burly, 
brazen  sheriff  of  the  parish.  Yent's  nationality  was  uncer- 
tain ;  he  was  a  sort  of  interloper  in  the  Eadical  camp.  He 
had  won  his  way  into  it,  partly  by  his  persistent  assurance, 
and  partly  by  the  capability  Witchell  had  seen  in  him  of 
impressing  the  negroes  and  ignorant  white  voters.  His  big, 
imposing  form,  always  well  dressed  and  well  mounted,  his 
bass  voice,  his  fine  condescension,  the  straightforward  fa- 
cility with  which  he  could  flatter  or  lie,  and  his  ready  knack 
of  rolling  out  wordy  information  and  advice  made  him 
seem  a  marvel  of  wisdom  and  honesty  to  his  ignorant  wor- 
shipers. 

He  impressed  the  negroes  with  the  belief  that  he  was 
Witchell's  right  hand,  and  that  it  was  their  interest  to  stay 
and  work  only  where  he  said.  In  this  way  he  got  planters 
(widows  particularly)  under  obligation  to  him,  which  he 
turned  to  account  by  inducing  them  to  intrust  the  sale  of 
their  cotton  to  his  superintendence.  He  pocketed  the  steal- 
age accruing  from  this  trust  with  such  bland  assurance 
that  his  victims  (more  especially  the  widows)  were  dazed 
into  believing  that  they  owed  him  a  debt  of  gratitude.  In- 
deed, he  took  bribes,  swindled,  and  lied,  in  such  a  pompous, 
self-approving  way,  that  it  is  certain  a  moral  sense  was 
omitted  in  his  composition. 

Witchell  regarded  him  with  growing  disfavor.  He 
would  have  taken  away  his  ofiice  at  once,  but  Yent  had  had 
glimpses  behind  the  scenes,  and  would  be  a  dangerous  ene- 
my. There  seemed  no  other  way  but  to  throw  sops  to  Cer- 
berus ;  and  this  Cerberus  was  capable  of  absorbing  a  good 
many  sops. 

The  sunset  crimson  was  fading  into  purple  and  gray. 


114  WILD    WORK. 

Many  of  the  loiterers  by  the  river  bank  had  gone  home  to 
their  early  supper.  Colonel  Alver  carried  off  his  guest, 
Miss  Vincent ;  Floyd  Reese,  gayly  calling  out  that  she  would 
follow  in  a  moment,  had  lingered  behind,  talking  to  young 
Witchell.  The  fresh  wind  played  with  her  half-curled  hair 
and  blew  aside  her  light  scarf,  giving  glim]3ses  of  her  round, 
white  arms. 

All  at  once  her  bright  look  darkened.  Only  for  an  in- 
stant ;  the  red  lips  caught  up  their  smile. 

*' Yonder  is  your  brother,  the  Captain,"  she  said  to  Omar. 
*^  How  well  he  looks  on  horseback  ! " 

Captain  Witchell  had  just  returned  from  a  day's  ride 
through  the  "  Hills,"  where  many  of  the  poorer  farmers 
were  his  grateful  adherents.  He  noticed  Miss  Reese  by  the 
merest  nod,  and  motioned  with  his  riding  whip  for  Omar  to 
come  to  him. 

"What  do  you  know  of  that  young  woman?"  he 
asked. 

"  Only  that  she  is  a  governess  in  Colonel  Alver's  family, 
and  that  she  formerly  taught  at  Mr.  Vincent's  and  seems 
good  friends  with  Miss  Zoe." 

'^She  has  not  always  been  a  governess.  I  happen  to 
know  an  episode  in  her  history.  I  need  not  tell  it  to  you. 
A  word  will  be  sufficient.  Beware  of  her.  She  is  not  so 
angelic  as  she  seems." 

Omar  looked  his  surprise. 

"Very  well.  I  will  be  on  my  guard,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  How  is  Adelle  ?  " 

"  She  is  not  so  well,  and  that  reminds  me  to  be  going. 
She  was  anxious  I  should  be  back  early." 

"Yes,  go  at  once  ;  she  will  be  looking  out  for  you.  I 
had  some  flowers  to  give  you  for  her,  when  you  should 
come  back  by  here,  but — " 

"  But  Miss  Reese  has  got  them  away  from  you,  I  sec. 


WILD    WORK.  145 

Take  care  she  gets  nothing  more  important  from  you. 
Good-by.  You  are  coming  to  spend  Sunday  with  us,  of 
course.     Adelle  told  me  to  remind  you  of  it." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  party  at  Colonel  Alver's  house  dragged,  in  spite 
of  the  host's  elegant  politeness.  His  self-control  was  not 
so  perfect  that  a  sense  of  something  having  gone  wrong — 
of  some  secret  discomfiture — did  not  emanate  from  him  and 
affect  his  guests.  Only  one  present  besides  himself  under- 
stood the  cause  of  the  cloud  that  came  and  went  across  his 
face  ;  and  that  one  was  not  his  wife — a  gentle,  sweet-faced 
lady,  who  patiently  played  quadrilles  for  some  of  the  young 
people  to  dance,  and  who  seemed  wrapped  in  her  children. 
She  kept  them  by  her  at  the  piano  ;  when  she  was  not  play- 
ing she  threaded  their  curls  with  her  slim  white  fingers,  and 
looked  into  their  faces  with  wistful  tenderness. 

Presently,  when  they  had  looked  long  enough  at  the 
dancing,  she  carried  them  off  to  bed,  leaving  the  part  of 
hostess  to  be  filled  by  Miss  Floyd  Eeese.  That  young  lady, 
though  only  a  governess,  was  at  home  in  dispensing  courte- 
sies here,  and  was  treated  with  much  consideration  by  Colo- 
nel Alver  and  his  friends.  Dressed  in  black  gauze,  with 
her  fine  arms  bare,  and  Omar's  wild  pinks  in  her  hair  and  on 
her  bosom,  she  eclipsed  every  girl  there,  except  Miss  Vin- 
cent. Zoe's  face,  perfect  as  a  medallion  cut  in  ivory, 
her  coils  of  black  hair,  her  slender,  graceful  shape,  were  in 
accord  with  the  simple  dress  she  wore — white  all  over,  ex- 
cept for  one  dash  of  vivid  color  at  her  throat,  where  a  red 
rose  was  held  in  place  by  a  diamond  cluster. 

But  Floyd  had  a  score  of  alluring  coquetries  of  manner 


140  WILD    WORK. 

that  Zoe  could  not,  or  would  not  use,  and  she  managed  to 
have  a  larger  share  of  admirers  about  her.  To  have  seen 
her,  gay,  witty,  ready  with  repartee  or  adroit  flattery, 
one  would  not  have  guessed  that  she  too  was  disappointed 
to-night,  and  that  the  bright  glances  that  seemed  to  be 
carelessly  sweeping  the  room  were  really  watching  the 
door  with  feverish  eagerness.  But,  had  one  been  noticing, 
he  would  have  seen  a  peculiar  look  come  into  her  face  as 
Omar  Witchell  entered  the  room  at  last,  quite  late,  and 
having  with  him  only  young  Hayne,  and  Devene,  the  tax 
collector  of  an  adjoining  parish,  the  younger  brother  of 
that  Devene  who  had  been  Captain  WitchelFs  right-hand 
man  during  all  his  political  career,  and  who  still  held  a 
place  in  the  Legislature. 

After  leaving  Judge  Pickenson's,  Omar  had  gone  to 
Devene's  room,  where  he  found  Hayne  and  Devene  smok- 
ing by  the  open  window.  Devene  was  giving  a  comic 
description  of  his  "tribulations  as  a  tax  collector  in  an 
unreconstructed  corner'^  of  the  neighboring  parish. 

*' They  gave  me  hail  Columbia,"  he  said.  "The  men 
got  down  their  old  shot  guns  and  tried  the  triggers ;  the 
widows  got  after  me  with  broomsticks,  the  children  set 
dogs  upon  me,  the  very  donkeys  brayed  defiance  at  me 
from  their  little  pole-pen  stables,  and  the  damsels  were 
proof  against  all  my  blandishments.  They  made  satirical 
remarks  about  my  appearance  quite  loud  enough  for  me 
to  hear,  and  one  pretty  red-cheeked  girl  broke  my  heart 
by  characterizing  my  mustache  (my  best  point,  as  I 
thought)  as  an  old  coon  tail.  I  was  told  several  times, 
*  Never  mind  ;  when  you  go  to  Morefield  you'll  get  it. 
Folks  there  are  not  going  to  stand  such  tax  papers  as 
these — and  from  radical  carpet-baggers.  They  are  fixing 
up  for  you  in  Morefield.'  So,  before  I  start  for  Morefield, 
I'll  have  my  will  drawn  up,  boys,  and  make  jow.  my  heirs. 


WILD    WOEK.  14.7 

I  advise  you  to  take  the  same  precaution,  Omar.  You've 
only  had  to  deal  as  yet  with  the  people  round  about  here, 
and  this  section  is  pretty  well  under  the  Captain's  control. 
It's  the  best  reconstructed  parish  in  the  district,  thanks 
to  your  brother  Marshall.  Even  Alver  has  come  around 
lately,  which  is  quite  a  triumph.  By  the  way,  are  we 
going  to  his  house  to-night  ?  I  should  say  it  was  time 
we  were  there.  Are  you  waiting  for  Captain  Witchell, 
Omar?" 

^^No,  he  is  not  going." 

*^He  is  not  ?  Why,  I  thought  his  policy  was  to  con- 
ciliate." 

^^  So  it  is ;  but  in  this  case  he  has  his  reasons  for  staying 
away.  Hayne,  my  dear  boy,  put  down  that  bottle.  You've 
had  enough  this  evening.  I  don't  want  the  finest  waltzer 
in  the  country  to  do  discredit  to  his  reputation  to-night. 
No,  indeed  ;  I'm  in  earnest.  Here  she  goes  into  the  lock- 
up ; "  and  firmly,  but  with  an  air  of  affectionate  playful- 
ness, he  took  the  bottle  of  brandy  from  the  handsome 
deputy  sheriff,  whipped  it  into  Devene's  armoire,  and 
turned  the  key.  Many  a  time  he  had  interfered  to  keep 
the  self -indulged  young  aristocrat  from  drinking  more  than 
was  good  for  him,  and  from  throwing  away  his  money  at 
cards. 

The  young  Southerner  was  a  pet  among  the  Eadical 
officers.  Witchell  had  given  him  a  place  at  first  through 
politic  motives,  but  his  gay,  indolent  humor,  and  frank, 
improvident  ways,  had  a  fascination  for  these  colder  and 
more  rigid  New  Englanders,  and  Ha3rQe  became  a  favorite 
among  them. 

The  three  young  men  were  not  a  bad-looking  trio  as 
they  entered  Colonel  Alver's  parlor  ten  minutes  after- 
ward. 

Omar  was  the  least  striking.     He  was  slender,  and  he 


UH  WILD    WORK. 

bad  a  slight  stooji  of  the  shoulders,  but  his  smile  gave  a 
charm  to  his  grave  face,  and  his  eyes  set  you  to  wondering 
at  their  childlike  earnestness. 

Miss  Keese  left  her  partner  and  came  to  meet  him  with 
her  sweetest  smile,  and  a  chiding  for  his  being  so  late.  He 
answered  her  pleasantly,  but  she  knew,  by  some  subtile 
change  in  look  and  tone,  that  something  had  happened 
since  she  talked  with  him  at  sunset  on  the  river  bank. 
His  brother  had  warned  him  against  her.  Had  he  told  him 
all  he  knew  of  her  ?  No,  he  would  not  do  that.  He  had 
promised  not  to  tell  that  bit  of  black  history  which  had 
come  to  his  knowledge  the  evening  of  her  hurried  advent 
into  the  State.  But  he  had  warned  Omar  against  her.  It 
was  for  this  he  had  called  him  from  her  side.  And  he  re- 
fused to  accept  Alver's  invitation.  Her  game  was  blocked 
in  this  direction..  She  set  her  sharp  little  teeth  hard  to- 
gether. 

"  I'll^pay  him  for  it,"  she  thought. 

Then  she  turned  to  her  partner. 

*^  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  graciously.  *'  I  believe 
you  asked  me  what  1  thought  of  our  State  Senator's  younger 
brother.  He's  quite  stupid  and  ordinary.  His  looks  have 
not  even  the  knavish  distinction  of  the  Captain's.  He 
looked  so  owlish  I  thought  he  might  be  wise,  and  was  at 
some  pains  to  draw  him  out,  but  I  soon  found  there  was 
nothing  to  draw.  He  is  '  a  blank,  my  lord,  a  blank.'  No, 
Captain  Witchell  did  not  come.  He  showed  his  discern- 
ment. He  was  only  invited  for  courtesy's  sake.  His  wife 
and  Mrs.  Alver  are  old  acquaintances.  The  Colonel  is  re- 
lieved, I  know,  to  find  that  they  have  had  the  good  sense  to 
stay  away." 

The  company  went  away  a  little  after  twelve.  Mrs. 
Alver  had  long  since  retired.  Floyd  took  Zoe  up  to  her 
room,  helped  her  lay  aside  her  dress   and  comb  out  her 


WILD    WORK.  149 

splendid  hair  ;  tlien,  stooping  to  kiss  her  as  she  sat  robed 
in  the  snowy,  ruffled  gown,  she  said  : 

''Go  to  bed  petite ^  and  keep  your  eyes  bright  for  to- 
morrow. I'm  going  down  now  to  count  the  spoons ;  I'll 
be  back  directly." 

Down  she  went,  noiseless  as  a  cat,  but  not  to  the  pan- 
try. A  single  light  was  burning  in  the  parlor,  and  Colonel 
Alver  sat  there — gloom  in  his  looks.  She  went  and  stood 
at  a  little  distance  in  front  of  him,  her  hands  crossed  be- 
fore her,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

''Well,"  she  said,  with  a  little  flicker  of  mirth  about 
her  lips,  ^'you  look  as  Napoleon  may  have  looked  after 
Waterloo.  You  haye  not  lost  a  battle — only  made  a  false 
moTe — an  unimportant  one." 

*' A  mean,  sneaking,  asinine  move  that  it  humiliates  me 
to  think  of — a  move  you  were  the  cause  of.  But  for  your 
persuasions  I  would  neyer  have  stooped  to  conciliate  these 
men." 

"  There  is  no  great  harm  done  ;  you  have  been  checked 
in  one  little  diplomatic  move  ;  the  question  is  now,  what 
shall  be  your  next  ?  " 

"  My  next  move  ?  I  will  make  none.  I  will  not  keep 
up  this  farce  of  good-will  any  longer.  The  mask  of  the 
hypocrite  stifles  me.  I  will  fling  it  oS.  I  hate  Witchell 
and  his  set,  and  I'll  let  them  see  and  hear  it  when  they 
please,  but  this  is  all  I  can  do.  I  can't  supplant  them  ; 
it's  folly  to  think  about  that.  They  have  too  firm  a  hold 
here,  and  they  have  had  it  so  long  now  that  it  seems  a 
thing  of  course  for  them  to  be  our  masters,  to  absorb  all 
our  offices,  to  make  money  out  of  us,  and  to  whistle  up  the 
bayonets  if  we  dare  expostulate.  It  is  one  of  the  many 
contemptible  qualities  of  men  that  they  soon  become  ser- 
vile after  they  have  once  been  cowed.  I  was  a  fool  •not  to 
have  left  this  land  of  slaves  as  soon  as  the  war  ended  and 


150  WILD   WORK, 

gone  to  Honduras,  when  I  had  money  and  energy  to  begin 
life  over  again.  Now  I  must  content  myself  to  be  a  village 
store-keeper  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  with  my  poor  chances 
of  trade  crippled  by  Yankee  interference." 

*^Is  it  possible  you  so  soon  give  up  ?  Where  is  your 
ambition  ?  " 

"Ambition  ?  Talk  of  running  a  race  to  a  man  who  is 
tied  hand  and  foot.  Don't  you  see  I  can  do  nothing  here. 
Witchell  has  this  parish  completely  under  his  thumb.  He 
is  daily  becoming  stronger  here.  He  will  be  reelected  for 
the  Senate,  unless  he  thinks  the  time  is  ripe  for  him  to 
snatch  at  a  bigger  office,  for  he  aspires  to  be  governor  of 
the  State,  and  he  will  be.  But  he  will  manage  to  quarter 
his  needy  kin  upon  us  here,  world  without  end.  I  have 
humbled  my  pride,  and  acted  on  your  suggestion  that  the 
only  way  to  get  rid  of  them  was  to  get  in  with  them,  learn 
their  secret  tactics,  beat  them  at  their  own  tricks  and 
mount  over  their  heads.  But  that  plan  doesn't  work,  you 
see.  Witchell  has  given  me  the  cold  shoulder.  He  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  me.  He  knows  I  would  not  make 
a  good  tool  in  his  hands.  I  would  not  be  satisfied  to  have 
a  petty  office  flung  to  me — a  crumb  from  a  full  table.  For 
this  reason  he  don't  want  me,  and  it  is  as  well,  for  I  could 
never  submit  to  his  dictation.  So  there's  an  end  to  a  foolish 
dream — partly  inspired  by  you,  for  I  had  become  almost 
a  ^  good  citizen,'  as  the  *  Eing '  call  these  cowardly  boot- 
licks,  until  I  knew  you,  and  your  words  fanned  the  smol- 
dering fire  into  a  flame  of  hope.  Let  it  die  down  now  in 
ashes." 

**  A  poor  flame  it  must  have  been  to  be  so  easily  quenched. 
If  it  is  a  true  flame  it  will  bum  through  these  obstacles.  I 
tell  you,  there  is  no  ground  for  giving  up  hope.  Your 
prospect  of  success  is  as  good  as  ever,  if  you  will  believe  it." 

"  Pray,  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?    Woman-like, 


^yILD    WORK.  151 

you  have  some  impracticable  plan  in  your  brain.  You  hang 
out  rainbows,  but  fail  to  show  us  how  to  get  the  treasure 
at  the  end  of  them.  I  suppose  you  would  have  me  go 
down  on  my  knees  to  Witchell  and  beg  some  deputy  office 
or  other.  He  absorbs  all  the  rest  himself.  He  is  repre- 
sentatiye,  tax-receiver,  magistrate,  and  everything  else.  I 
will  not  stoop  to  him  again." 

"Nor  do  I  want  you  to.  I  can  see  that  there  is  no  use 
to  move  farther  in  that  direction.  But  you  must  not  drop 
your  mask,  as  you  call  it,  altogether — at  least  for  a  while. 
You  can  work  best  for  a  time  behind  it ;  and  work  against 
him  you  must ;  secretly  for  a  while,  and  then  as  openly 
as  you  please.  You  have  time  to  do  much  between  now 
and  the  next  election.  Institute  a  secret  society  in  oppo- 
sition to  his  Moyal  league,'  extend  its  branches  into  the 
country  around.  Make  speeches  at  the  meetings.  You  are 
eloquent  and  impassioned;  you  can  stir  up  the  people 
against  this  man  ;  you  can  break  through  this  numbing  ice 
of  submissiveness." 

^'  You  forget  that  the  people,  as  you  call  them,  do  hardly 
half  the  voting  now.  The  negro  predominates  under  Wit- 
chell's  registration. " 

"You  may  work  upon  the  negro  also  through  one 
man. " 

"  You  mean  Yent?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  is  secretly  Mitchell's  enemy,  and  he  has  full 
as  much  control  over  the  man  and  brother  as  Witchell  has. 
I  found  that  out,  and  some  other  things,  in  a  private  talk 
I  have  had  with  Yent." 

"A  private  talk — you?  Floyd,  and  you  know  Yent's 
reputation  ?  " 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  him.  Don't  be  jealous,  my  Caesar 
of  the  yard-stick,  my  eagle  caged  and  clipped.  I  am  work- 
ing in  your  interest.     Leave  Yent  to  me.     He  shall  not 


152  ^yiLD    WOJiK. 

suspect  you  in  the  case.  He  shall  work  cautiously  and 
for  himself  chiefly,  as  he  will  think.  At  the  last  moment 
he  may  be  the  means  of  bringing  over  no  mean  number  to 
your  party." 

"  My  party  !    I  have  none." 

"But  you  must  have.  Set  the  ball  rightly  in  motion 
and  it  will  gather  as  it  rolls.  Organize  a  party  of  opposi- 
tion, secretly  at  first,  as  I  have  said.  Such  an  organiza- 
tion grows  faster  under  the  shadow  of  secrecy.  Curiosity 
and  mystery  stimulate  its  growth.  When  it  has  attained 
a  formidable  size,  bring  it  out  into  the  light. " 

"  How  plausibly  you  talk  !  As  if  there  were  any  use  of 
organizing  an  opposition  that  would  be  certainly  crushed 
when  it  came  to  the  test  of  election.  The  ballot-box  is 
wholly  in  the  hands  of  this  Ring.  They  can  manipulate 
there  as  they  please.  If  fraudulent  registering  and  fraudu- 
lent casting  of  votes  do  not  do  the  work,  fraudulent  count- 
ing of  returns  will  set  them  all  right." 

"You  must  make  them  afraid  to  practice  such  unlawful 
tricks.  You  must  watch  them  so  vigilantly,  hold  them  to 
account  so  boldly,  that  they  will  grow  timid,  hardened  as 
they  are  in  assurance.  Get  a  mouth-piece  here  in  opposi- 
tion to  theirs — a  newspaper — that,  when  the  time  is  ripe  for 
open  opposition,  shall  begin  the  war  in  the  most  fearless  fash- 
ion ;  shall  make  wit,  abuse,  and  satire  its  unsparing  weap- 
ons. Scatter  abroad  scathing  truths,  withering  exposures. 
Rake  up  old  scores  and  light  them  with  fresh  fires  of  hate. 
I  can  worm  toiany  of  their  evil  secrets  from  Yent.  Show 
these  up  in  vivid  colors.  Throw  sneers  at  the  people,  who 
have  so  long  stood  these  things,  and  encourage  them  to 
stand  them  no  longer." 

He  looked  at  her  with  admiration. 

"What  a  leader  you  would  make  !"  he  said.  "Floyd, 
you  ought  to  liavc  been  born  a  man." 


WILD    WORK.  153 

"  Oh  !  if  I  had  been,"  she  cried.  '^  As  a  man,  I  would 
act ;  now  I  can  only  inspire  others  to  act.  I  would  com- 
mand fate.  I  would  fight  against  dull  mediocrity.  I 
would  rise  above  the  heads  of  the  common  crowd,  or  die  in 
the  attempt.  I  would  stickle  at  nothing,  fear  nothing, 
care  for  nothing  but  power.  Ah!  to 'feel  such  a  will — 
throbbing,  struggling  inside  your  heart,  and  know  it  must 
be  kept  in,  restrained  for  ever  by  the  woman'' s  bodice." 

She  trembled  with  the  strength  of  her  emotion.  This 
passion  for  power  was  a  mania  with  her.  It  had  been  her 
ruin.  Since  she  must  rule  by  the  need  of  her  being,  she 
had  sought  to  rule  hearts — dangerous  and  explosive  things. 
Had  she  been  a  man,  she  might  have  ruled  heads. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  at  her  ;  then,  as  she 
sank  slowly  into  a  seat  and  leaned  her  elbow  upon  the  mar- 
ble table,  and  dropped  her  eyes,  he  said  : 

"Floyd,  I  wonder,  with  your  ambition,  that  you  did 
not  attach  your  hopes  to  the  winning  clique." 

"Because  I  did  not  believe  it  would  continue  to  be  the 
winning  party.  My  woman's  insight  tells  me  that  it  is 
doomed.  It  seems  flourishing  now,  but  there  is  rottenness 
within.  I  had  rather  launch  my  boat  on  the  low  tide  that 
is  just  beginning  to  rise  than  on  the  high  tide  that  is  begin- 
ning to  ebb.     A  reaction  is  at  hand. " 

"I  can  not  see  it.  Our  cause  never  seemed  darker  than 
now." 

"It  is  the  dark  hour  that  comes  before  the  day.  The 
pendulum  must  swing  to  the  farther  end  of  the  arc  before 
it  begins  to  return." 

"  And  it  is  this  foresight  that  makes  you  prefer  rather 
to  buoy  a  stranded  ship  than  to  float  with  one  whose  tim- 
bers are  giving  way  ?  " 

^' That  is  one  reason." 

"And  you  have  another  ?" 


151  WILD    WORK. 

"Perhaps  I  have — a  woman's  reason,"  she  said,  her  ex- 
pression changing.  "  Perhaps,  instead  of  seeking  to  bask 
in  the  good  fortune  of  this  lank,  hicky  Yankee  adventurer, 

with  his 

'  Heart  that  is  cold 
To  all  but  gold,' 

I  prefer  to  cheer  and  inspire  a — " 

"A  cropped-winged  eagle — a  Caesar  of  the  yard-stick,  as 
you  contemptuously  characterize  him." 

*^  Hush,"  she  said,  rising  and  putting  her  little  hands 
together,  her  favorite  gesture.  "  To  inspire  a  man  who, 
in  spite  of  his  fallen  fortunes,  is  a  king  among  men ;  who 
was  born  to  superiority,  who  aspires,  and  may  succeed  if 
he  wills  it — a  man  whose  wrath  can  make  men  tremble, 
whose  voice  can  persuade  or  command,  and  whose  smile  is 
— fascination." 

Her  burning  eye — her  voice  sunk  to  such  a  thrilling 
whisper !  He  started  toward  her,  but  she  sprang  back  a 
step,  light  as  a  bird.  She  stood  there,  looking  in  her  gossa- 
mer black  dress  and  red  flowers,  with  her  long,  white  neck, 
and  bright  eyes,  like  some  bird  of  the  tropics,  conscious  of 
alluring  you,  yet  ready  to  fly  if  you  approach  too  near. 
But  when  she  saw  he  had  controlled  himself  she  came  up 
of  her  own  accord  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Promise  me  that  you  will  do  what  I  have  asked,"  she 
said,  looking  into  his  eyes.  "  Promise  me  that  you  will  not 
give  up  in  this  weak  fashion,  that  you  will  supplant  these 
men  that  are  your  own  bitter  enemies  as  well  as  the  enemies 
of  your  country." 

"I  am  ready  to  promise  anything  you  ask." 

'*  Do  not  speak  that  way.  I  am  in  deej),  bitter  earnest. 
Promise  that  you  will  follow  the  plan  I  have  outlined,  filled 
in  by  your  superior  judgment." 

"I  promise  you  I  will.     I   only  follow  out  my  own 


WILD    WORK.  155 

strong  inclination  when  I  oppose  these  t}Tants.  Justice, 
patriotism,  as  well  as  desire  to  redress  my  indiyidual  wrongs, 
make  it  right  to  use  every  means  to  root  them  out.  Every 
lionoraUe  means — dishonorable  means  I  will  not  be  a  party 
to." 

She  bit  her  lip  with  a  quick  expression  of  impatience, 
but  she  bent  her  head  to  hide  it  the  next  instant. 

''Very  well,"  she  said.  ** Thanks;  I  will  count  on 
you.     You  will  succeed." 

'^I  have  scarcely  a  hope  of  it.  By  next  election  we  will 
be  calling  our  little  play  '  Labor  Lost.' " 

**  By  next  election  much  may  happen,"  she  said  eagerly. 
All  this  opposition  we  are  to  sow  broadcast  must  break  out 
in  some  result;  with  all  this  scattered  gunpowder,  the 
least  spark  will  produce  an  explosion  that  shall  send  our 
enemies  to  destruction." 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly  in  silence. 

''Or,"  she  went  on,  "some  trap  may  be  set  into  which 
they  shall  walk  blindfold,  and  which  will  crush— ^?7^ 
them." 

''Floyd,  would  you  advocate  such  measures  ?" 

"Yes,  I  would  fight  Satan  with  fire  ;  I  am  afraid  it  is 
the  only  way  in  this  case.  It  is  the  only  way  to  rid  our  sec- 
tion of  this  pest.  Witchell  has  fastened  upon  it  with  the 
cold-blooded  persistence  of  the  devil-fish.  Lop  off  one  ten- 
tacle, and  he  will  put  out  another.  No  lopping  or  crip- 
pling, then,  but  crushing.  And  if  not  by  fair  means,  then 
by  foul." 

"  There  I  can  not  follow  you.  I  said  I  would  use  all 
honorable  means.  Assassination,  and  traps,  and  dark  plots 
are  not  honorable.  I  would  stop  this  side  of  these.  So 
far,  and  no  farther." 

A  scowl  of  disappointment  and  contempt  darkened  her 
face.     Then  she  laughed  mirthlessly. 


156  WILD   WORK. 

*' All's  fair  in  war,  you  know,"  she  said  carelessly. 
''  Spare  me  that  frown,  just  Cato.  I  was  only  testing  your 
integrity.  Of  course  you  will  do  nothing  but  what  is  hon- 
orable, nor  would  I  wish  you  to.  Could  you  not  see  I 
was  not  in  earnest  ?  I  only  gave  you  a  touch  of  my  histri- 
onic powers.     Am  I  not  a  good  actor  ?  " 

"  You  are,  indeed.  You  looked  the  murderous  Borgia 
then.  I  wonder  now,  as  I  have  often  done  before,  why 
you  have  not  gone  on  the  stage." 

"I  preferred  a  wider  scope  for  my  powers — a  real  stage. 
Some  day  I  will  act  a  real  tragedy — or  inspire  one.  Or, 
perhaps,"  with  another  of  her  quick  changes,  ''it  will  be 
only  a  melodrama  or  a  love  idyl." 

She  gave  him  a  kiss  of  the  hand  and  a  courtesy.  "  Good- 
night. I  told  Miss  Vincent  I  was  coming  down  to  count 
the  spoons.  She  will  have  a  poor  opinion  of  my  arithme- 
tic." 

She  reached  the  door  and  looked  back. 

"I  have  recorded  your  promise  here,''^  she  said,  laying 
her  hand  upon  her  heart.     ''  I  shall  not  forget  it." 

Outside  the  door,  she  paused  and  stared  at  the  low 
moon,  seen  through  the  glass  around  the  hall-door. 

"  So  far  and  no  farther,"  she  repeated  to  herself.  "  Oh  ! 
what  weak,  squeamish  things  some  men  are  !  Honor  and 
conscience  and  pride  are  bugbears  for  ever  in  their  path. 

"Well,  we'll  see.  He  shall  be  bHnded  and  led  farther 
before  he  knows  it — if  there  is  need  of  it.  I  will  not  give 
up — no  not  if  I  have  to  play  a  lone  hand.  I  can  not  rest 
until  Witchell  is  out  of  the  way — the  man  who  has  scorned 
me,  humbled  me,  as  no  man  ever  did  before — the  man  who 
alone  knows  my  secret,  who  watches  me  with  such  cold, 
cruel  contempt  in  his  eyes,  who  may  at  any  moment  expose 
me,  and  put  my  life  in  danger. " 

The  moon  sank  behind  the  forest  line.     Floyd  stole 


WILD    WORK.  157 

noiseless  as  a  gliding  serpent  up  the  stairs.  She  cast  a 
glance  at  the  sleeping  Zoe,  undressed,  and  crept  to  bed,  ly- 
ing down  with  her  brain  full  of  wild,  whirling  thoughts  and 
dark  memories  that  would  steal  in — by  the  side  of  the  white- 
souled  girl  asleep  with  the  smiling  shadow  of  a  dream  on 
her  parted  lips. 

The  man  she  had  left  sat  awhile  with  his  brow  con- 
tracted in  thought,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  door  that  had 
closed  behind  the  beautiful  woman. 

"So  far  and  no  farther,"  he  too  repeated.  Captain 
Pickenson  had  been  mistaken  in  his  estimate  of  him.  He 
was  not  fit  for  "  treason,  stratagems,  and  spoils."  He  was 
too  proud  and  hot-tempered.  He  hated  his  foes  with  all 
the  strength  of  his  fiery  heart,  and  he  was  intensely  ambi- 
tious— more  ambitious  than  Witchell  (though  without  the 
New  Englander's  cold,  plodding  earnestness  of  aim),  for  he 
loved  power  for  power's  sake,  and  he  only  cared  for  money 
as  a  means  to  increase  his  influence. 

He  was  a  born  autocrat.  He  had  reigned  like  a  feudal 
baron  among  his  many  slaves  ;  he  had  commanded  a  regi- 
ment with  the  pride  and  zest  of  a  Eussian  Prince.  No 
wonder  he  chafed  in  his  narrow  sphere.  But,  for  all  his 
hatred  of  his  enemies,  his  resentment  at  the  injuries  he  held 
they  had  inflicted  upon  his  business,  and  his  desire  to  sup- 
plant them,  he  revolted  at  using  underhand  means  to  ac- 
complish his  end.  He  would  have  despaired  of  attempting 
any  systematized  means  had  it  not  been  for  the  persistent 
suggestions  of  the  girl  who  was  so  mad  for  the  overthrow  of 
"Witchell,  and  the  accession  of  another,  in  whose  prosperity 
she  might  have  some  share.  He  was  under  the  influence  of 
the  wily  charmer.  She  bewildered  and  attracted  him  ;  but 
she  adroitly  held  him  at  arm's  length,  and  increased  her 
power  over  him  by  preserving  his  respect  for  her  as  a 
woman. 


158  WILD    WORK. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

The  Legislature  was  in  convention  in  New  Orleans.  It 
was  a  busy  session.  Besides  the  legitimate  State  business, 
there  were  issues  affecting  the  party  in  power,  and  there  were 
questions  of  vital  personal  interest  to  some  of  the  members. 
Most  actively  interested  of  any  man  in  the  Assembly  was 
the  member  of  the  Senate  from  the  — th  district.  Yet 
Marshall  Witchell's  activity  was  never  outwardly  shown. 
His  bearing  had  its  usual  self-collected,  almost  stoical  quiet. 
The  firm  mouth,  the  cold,  keen  eye  kept  the  secret  of  the 
busy  brain  that  was  on  the  alert  to  avoid  false  moves,  to  seize 
all  the  points  of  advantage  that  were  offered  by  this  occa- 
sion— an  important  crisis,  as  he  rightly  judged,  in  his  politi- 
cal destiny.  This  year  his  term  as  member  of  the  Senate 
would  expire.  He  determined  at  least  on  reelection.  He 
had  hoped  for  a  higher  office,  and  there  was  no  reason  why 
he  should  not  obtain  it.  In  intellect  he  was  superior  to 
either  of  the  two  other  men  who  were  pointed  at  as  the  pos- 
sible prospective  governor  of  the  State.  Financially,  he 
was  able  to  cope  with  them,  and  politically  his  influence 
was  as  wide  as  theirs ;  he  had  as  many  friends,  and  they 
were  stanch  ones.  There  was  only  one  drawback.  Both 
the  other  aspirants  for  the  highest  office  of  the  State  resided 
near  New  Orleans.  They  were  identified  in  a  manner  with 
tlie  city  that  was  the  political  aijd  business  center  of  the 
State.  The  influence  they  could  wield  was  from  this  cir- 
cumstance stronger.  Then  there  were  tricks  that  the 
Metropolitan  Political  Ring  was  up  to  which  Witch  ell, 
with  all  his  acuteness,  had  not  yet  learned.  He  was  learn- 
ing them,  however.  His  energies  were  bent  to  the  task  of 
extending  his  influence,  bringing  his  views  into  promi- 
nence, conciliating  those  in  any  way  unfriendly  to  him, 


WILD    WORK.  159 

and  trying  to  understand  tlie  tactics  of  his  opponents  and 
to  set  in  motion  secret  springs  that  might  circumvent  them. 
He  found  there  was  disaffection  in  the  Eepublican  party ; 
a  complaint  of  mismanagement  and  of  unfair  distribution 
of  favors.  The  disaffected  ones  would  rally  around  Wit- 
chell.  They  would  be  willing  to  have  New  Orleans  thrown 
out  in  the  approaching  nomination,  and  all  the  higher 
offices  given  to  men  from  the  country.  Witchell  saw  this 
disposition,  and  he  saw  his  chance  to  be  the  political  leader 
of  the  State.  He  set  his  sails  to  catch  this  favorable  wind, 
but  he  gave  no  sign  of  his  intentions  to  the  other  side. 
While  he  based  his  hope  on  this  half  secret  split  in  the 
party,  he  appeared  to  enter  heartily  into  the  formation  of 
what  was  known  as  the  Eepublican  Alliance,  which  con- 
sisted in  the  Kepublicans  banding  together  to  meet  the 
Democratic  opposition  which  they  foresaw  ;  binding  them- 
selves to  do  all  in  their  power  to  uphold  their  party  and  to 
check  the  rebellious  spirit  that  began  to  be  rife  in  the  air. 
Every  parish  was  to  be  newly  organized  by  all  the  negroes 
being  sworn  in,  and  as  many  of  the  whites  as  could  be  in- 
duced to  ally  themselves  with  the  party  that  seemed  at  pres- 
ent all  powerful.  Witchell's  cupidity  and  his  ambition 
were  alike  fired  by  the  prize  he  saw  in  the  future.  He  saw 
power  and  a  fortune  of  millions  ahead  of  him ;  but  his 
hand  did  not  shake  as  he  prepared  to  grasp  it.  Coolly,  sys- 
tematically, and  with  great  finesse  and  strategy,  he  set 
about  paving  his  way,  preparatory  to  the  Convention  of 
nomination  that  would  meet  in  the  summer. 

The  work  in  hand  absorbed  his  thoughts  and  occupied 
his  time  ;  he  had  none  to  spare  to  his  invalid  young  wife. 
She  was  with  him  in  the  city  in  elegant  apartments,  but  she 
felt  almost  as  far  removed  from  his  daily  life — ^his  thoughts 
and  occupations — as  though  she  had  remained  in  her  qui- 
et, catalpa-shaded  home  on  Eed  Eiver.     Her  husband  had 


160  WfLD    WORK. 

taken  pains  that  she  should  have  every  attention  that  money 
could  obtain. 

She  had  a  physician  and  nurses,  a  carriage  was  at  her 
disposal,  and  fresh  fruits  and  flowers  were  daily  sent  to  her 
room.  But  those  attentions  that  only  watchful  and  devoted 
love  can  give — these  the  poor,  sick  heart  missed  and  pined 
for.  To  have  him  sit  by  her  and  hold  her  hand  and  look 
with  tenderness  into  her  fading  face,  and  say  cheering 
words,  adding  the  balm  of  affection  to  the  cordial  of  his 
electrical  presence — ^this  would  have  been  happiness  to 
Adelle.  But  though  he  daily  left  a  kiss  on  her  lips,  he 
was  too  preoccupied  to  notice  how  feverish  they  were,  and 
how  wistfully  they  trembled.  He  did  not  see,  when  he 
parted  the  hair  from  her  temples,  that  her  forehead  grew 
wanner  and  the  blue  veins  more  apparent  every  day.  Her 
complaints  of  loneliness,  her  little  tender  appeals  to  spare 
her  an  hour  from  daily  business  or  night  committees  an- 
noyed him  sometimes.  Could  she  not  see  he  was  working 
for  her  ?  She  would  be  the  richest  and  most  honored  lady 
in  the  State  ;  she  should  have  her  winter  mansion  near  this 
beautiful  city,  her  summer  home  among  the  mountains  of 
his  native  land.  Why  would  she  not  go  out  more  into  so- 
ciety ?  His  mother,  for  whose  opinion  he  had  the  highest 
regard,  had  told  him  before  he  and  his  wife  left  ''  Starlight 
Home "  on  the  river  that  Adelle  was  hysterical  and  baby- 
ish. She  had  been  too  much  petted  when  a  girl.  She 
must  be  dealt  with  kindly  but  firmly,  and  taught  some 
womanly  strength  of  character.  If  she  would  mix  more 
with  people,  go  more  into  general  society,  it  would  make 
her  realize  the  dignity  of  her  position,  and  keep  her  from 
pining  because  she  missed  the  petting  of  the  father  and 
mother  and  the  brother  who  had  cast  her  off.  Her  illness, 
declared  the  strong,  wiry  New  England  woman  (who  forgot 
she  had  once  been  an  invalid),  arose  from  this  weak  grieving 


WILD    WORK.  161 

oyer  the  estrangement  of  lier  family  and  from  childisli  crav- 
ing to  be  petted  and  caressed  by  lier  husband.  If  she  could 
get  over  this,  was  Mrs.  Witchell's  decision,  Adelle  would  soon 
be  perfectly  well.  Witchell,  who  knew  little  of  the  secret 
and  delicate  mechanism  of  a  woman's  heart,  tried  to  act  upon 
his  mother's  suggestion.  Her  plan  might  have  answered 
with  a  colder  and  shallower  nature,  but  it  did  not  answer 
with  this  girl,  to  whom  love  was  the  fountain  without  which, 
if  once  dried,  all  her  physical  being  must  wither  and  perish. 

She  did  pine  for  the  home  friends,  and  the  fond  home 
care  and  watchful  tenderness — the  kind  old  face  of  her 
mother,  the  stern,  but  to  her  (in  the  old  days)  always 
tender  eyes  of  her  father.  Oh !  how  could  they  harden 
their  hearts  so  against  her  ?  How  could  they  refuse  to  see 
her,  to  write  to  her  in  answer  to  her  imploring  letters  all 
this  long,  weary  while  ?  She  had  heard  that  her  mother 
told  a  friend  she  knew  '^Adelle  needed  her  old  parents  no 
longer ;  that  she  was  rich  now,  and  she  had  the  husband 
she  was  so  anxious  to  forsake  every  one  else  for ;  she  was 
flattered,  followed  in  societ}^  and  had  a  fine  house  and 
jewels  and  dresses,  and  her  husband's  mother  and  kins- 
folk to  care  for  her.  No  doubt  she  never  gave  a  thought 
to  her  old  home." 

Not  give  it  a  thought  ?  How  often  Adelle,  in  the 
midst  of  her  fine  surroundings,  yearned  with  inexpressible 
longing  to  rest  her  languid  form  under  the  old  honey- 
suckle shaded  porch  at  home  ?  The  scent  of  the  pinks  : 
the  twitter  of  the  martins  in  their  gourd  nests,  hung  aloft 
to  swing  and  rattle  in  the  wind  ;  the  coo  of  her  pigeons  ;  her 
mother's  voice,  singing  as  she  sewed  or  knitted, 

"  How  do  thy  mercies  close  me  round  ?" 

Her  father's  whistle  as  he  worked  away  at  putting  up  a 
trellis  for  a  grape-vine,  or  at  hanging  a  refractory  gate ;  the 


1G2  WILD    WORK. 

monotonous  song  of  the  little  kitchen  darky  in  the  back 
yard  as  he  plied  the  churn-dasher  under  the  mulberry-tree 
and  pleaded 

"  Come,  butter,  come. 
Here  stands  Miss  with  a  free  good-will ;  " 

Derrick's  laugh  and  his  quick  step  behind  her,  and  his 
hands  put  over  her  eyes  while  he  drew  back  her  head  to 
drop  ripe  huckleberries  in  her  mouth — all  these  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  sweet,  lost  country  home  came  so  vividly 
over  Adelle,  as  she  lay  in  her  elegant  bed,  or  sat  by  her 
window,  looking  out  into  the  street  full  of  strange,  hurry- 
ing, self-absorbed  people,  that  the  tears  would  come  in 
slow  drops  and  roll  down  her  pale  cheeks,  and  the  hired 
nurse  (a  French  woman,  cross  and  tyrannical  when  alone 
with  her  charge)  would  say  impatiently, 

"Now  you  are  crying  again,  madam,  and  making  your- 
self worse.  What  will  the  Captain  say  when  he  sees  your 
eyes  all  red  ?  " 

At  this  the  poor  girl  would  hurriedly  wipe  away  the 
tears  and  beg  the  maid  to  remove  their  traces  with  pearl 
powder,  for  she  knew  Captain  Witchell  was  always  annoyed 
at  her  weeping.  His  nature  was  utterly  dissimilar  to  hers, 
and  he  could  not  understand  why  she  should  not  be  happy. 
He  was  more  to  her  than  the  parents  or  the  home  she  had 
lost ;  but,  alas  !  to  her  sensitive,  sick  heart,  she  seemed  to 
have  lost  him  also.  She  counted  for  so  little  in  his  busy 
life — she  had  so  little  part  in  it.  It  would  have  been  a  joy 
to  her  to  help  him.  But  he  seemed  so  sufficient  to  himself. 
He  asked  no  sympathy  ;  he  confided  none  of  his  hopes  and 
plans. 

Neither  understood  the  other,  but  Adelle  tried  faith- 
fully to  please  her  husband,  although  the  weakness  conse- 
quent upon  ill  health  made  her  efforts  fitful  and  languid. 


WIZD   WORK.  163 

Wlien  she  felt  able  to  be  up,  sbe  dressed  sometimes  and 
went  with  him  to  dinner  at  the  houses  of  men  whose  wives 
had  left  their  cards  on  her  center-table — men  whom  Cap- 
tain Witchell  wished  especially  to  please.  Her  delicate 
beauty  and  sweetness  of  manner  always  rendered  her  a 
favorite,  but  it  was  at  sad  sacrifice  of  her  own  feelings  that 
she  made  these  efforts. 

Zoe  Vincent  came  to  the  city  with  her  brother,  who 
brought  his  cotton  to  exchange  for  plantation  supphes  and 
goods  for  his  store.  She  went  to  see  Adelle  at  once,  and 
the  poor  little  patient  brightened  under  her  nursing  and 
her  cheering  presence.  A  delicate  pink  came  into  her 
cheeks,  unlike  the  feverish  hectic  that  sometimes  burned 
there .  One  evening  she  was  greatly  better  ;  she  was  going 
to  the  opera  with  Zoe  and  Eoyal  West.  She  hoped  to  per- 
suade her  husband  to  go  with  her,  and  she  waited  for  him 
with  childlike  eagerness.  Very  lovely  she  looked  in  her 
dress  of  pale  silk  with  ermine-trimmed  opera  cloak  and 
dainty  hood  that  only  half  covered  her  little  shapely  head, 
whose  dark  tresses  she  had  made  the  French  hair-dresser 
arrange  in  curls,  because  she  had  often  worn  them  so  in  her 
girlhood,  and  she  fancied  Marshall  liked  it. 

He  came  at  last ;  a  glance  at  his  face  told  her  he  had 
brought  his  business  cares  home  with  him,  but  going  up  to 
him  she  timidly  preferred  her  little  request.  Would  he  go 
with  her  and  her  friends  to  the  opera  to-night  ?  She  would 
not  enjoy  it  without  him.  Her  spirits  sank  as,  without 
noticing  her  pretty  toilet,  he  said  : 

"I  am  sorry  ;  I  have  a  business  engagement  to-night ; 
I  am  chairman  of  a  committee — and  of  course  can't  go. 
Mr.  West  will  fill  my  place  as  escort,  and  Miss  Zoe  will 
keep  you  in  spirits." 

She  went  with  her  friends,  but  all  pleasure  in  the  enter- 
tainment was  gone  for  her.     As  she  sat  in  a  side  box  many 


104  TF/XZ)    WOUK 

eyes  were  turned  wonderingly  to  her  beautiful  pale  face  and 
large  melancholy  eyes. 

In  the  midst  of  the  prima  donna's  mimic  grief  Mrs. 
Witchell  fainted.  She  soon  recovered  consciousness,  but 
she  looked  so  wan  that  Zoe  hurried  her  home,  and  sat  by 
her  until  Captain  Witchell  came,  while  Royal  waited  in  the 
parlor.  Zoe  was  strongly  moved  by  the  change  in  her 
friend. 

"It  all  comes  from  love,"  she  thought.  "Let  me  take 
warning." 

During  the  drive  to  the  hotel  she  was  altogether  silent, 
and  when,  Royal  having  dismissed  the  carriage,  the  two  sat 
secluded  and  quiet  in  the  bower-like  balcony  that  over- 
hung the  street,  she  still  remained  silent  and  distrait  in 
spite  of  the  balmy  air,  the  myriad  stars  overhead,  and  the 
softened  light  that  came  through  the  windows  of  the  draw- 
ing-room. She  started  as  Royal,  laying  his  hand  over  hers, 
asked  the  cause  of  her  silence. 

"I  have  been  thinking  what  a  mad  thing  it  is  for  a 
woman  to  stake  her  happiness  for  this  world  upon  a  man's 
love,"  slie  answered,  drawing  away  her  hand  as  she  spoke. 

"  If  it  be  a  mad  thing,  you  will  never  deserve  a  strait- 
jacket  for  any  such  insanity,"  he  said  sardonically. 

"  I  was  speaking  generally.  I  do  not  like  to  have  my 
remarks  applied  to  myself  by  another,"  she  responded 
haughtily,  half  rising  as  she  spoke,  and  then  added  :  "It  is 
late.     I  had  better  say  good-night." 

"  Excuse  me  ;  it  is  not  so  late.  Sit  down.  I  must  have 
some  words  with  you  in  private.  I  have  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  them  since  you  came.  You  have  seemed 
to  me  to  plan  that  I  should  not  be  alone  with  you.  Pardon 
me  if  I  wrong  you,  but  I  can  not  help  believing  that  your 
engagement  to  me  is  no  longer  agreeable  to  you  ;  that  your 
heart  is  not  in  it.     You  have  put  me  off  from  time  to  time 


WILD    WOEK,  165 

until  months  have  grown  into  years,  and,  now  that  no 
shadow  of  pretext  is  left  for  you  to  postpone  our  marriage, 
you  seem  to  avoid  the  subject  altogether  ;  you  shrink  from 
being  alone  with  me.     What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

For  a  while  she  was  silent,  then  she  said  deprecatingly  ; 

**You  know  my  reasons  for  postponement.  Royal. 
First,  it  was  my  mother's  death.  I  could  not  think  of 
marriage  while  that  sorrow  was  so  fresh  in  my  mind." 

'*  But  it  is  now  three  years  since  that  happened." 

'^  I  know  ;  but  I  have  been  of  such  use  in  my  brother's 
family,  teaching  his  dear  little  children,  he  often  declares 
he  could  not  spare  me ;  and,  besides,  I  hated  to  come  to  you 
as  a  burden  ;  and  you  know  the  little  fortune  my  mother 
left  me  is  to  stay  in  the  hands  of  trustees  until  I  am  twenty- 
one.  You  agreed  with  me — or  you  ought  to  have — that  it 
would  be  more  prudent  to  wait  until  then." 

"  I  agreed  to  nothing  of  the  kind.  You  tried  to  reason 
me  into  agreeing  to  such  an  absurdity,  but  I  told  you  we 
wouldn't  need  your  money.  I  had  a  fair  income  from  my 
profession  ;  I  had  saved  money  and  invested  it  to  advantage. 
I  am  now  about  to  purchase  a  handsome  house,  which  I 
will  furnish  comfortably.  If  any  prudential  reasons  once 
existed  why  we  should  not  marry,  they  exist  no  longer.  I 
am  tired  to  death  of  boarding-house  life,  and,  to  be  frank 
with  you,  I  am  tired  of  your  dilly-dallying  in  this  matter 
of  our  engagement.  To-night  I  must  have  your  positive 
answer.  When  will  you  fulfill  your  promise,  Zoe  ?  On 
what  day,  or  week,  or  month  at  farthest  will  you  marry 
me?" 

He  felt  her  hand  tremble  as  he  took  it  in  his,  and  he 
could  see  how  pale  she  was. 

"I  have  been  too  impetuous  in  my  way  of  speaking  to 
you,"  he  said  gently.  ^*  Pardon  me,  and  give  me  the  an- 
swer I  ask — my  best  love." 


166  TT/ZZ)   WOEK. 

'*Am  I  really  your  best  love?''  she  retorted  quickly. 
'*Do  you  love  me  better  than  you  do  any  one  else  ?  better 
than  you  could  love  some  one  else  if  you  were  to  try,  Royal  ? 
There  are  so  many  beautiful,  accomj^lished  girls  here  in  the 
city,  and  you  might  win  any  one  of  them  ;  I  am  sure  you 
might." 

**  Thank  you,  I  know  that  there  are  scores  of  handsome 
women  here,  and  that  I  am  looked  upon  as  a  good  catch, 
in  their  parlance,  but  I  can  not  see  what  that  has  to  do 
with  the  question  I  have  asked  you.  Certainly  I  loved  you 
only,  or  I  would  not  have  asked  you  to  be  my  wife." 

"But  people  change." 

**  Do  they  ?  I  have  not.  Over  three  years  ago  I  en- 
gaged myself  to  you,  with  the  approval  of  your  father,  and 
the  full  sanction  of  your  mother  who  is  now  in  heaven.  I 
have  looked  forward  constantly  to  our  marriage.  I  have 
worked  hard  with  that  incentive,  wishing  to  give  you  the 
social  position  you  deserved.  It  is  rather  late  in  the  day  to 
ask  me  if  I  love  you,  Zoe.  I  will  retaliate  and  ask  you  the 
same  question.     Zoe,  do  you  love  me  ?" 

She  made  a  movement  as  if  she  would  withdraw  her 
hands,  but  he  held  them  firmly.  She  tried  to  laugh  at  his 
earnestness. 

"How  like  a  lawyer  you  put  that  question,  and  how 
sharply  your  eye  takes  me  up ;  you  make  me  feel  like  a 
veritable  prisoner  at  the  bar." 

He  did  not  smile  ;  his  face  grew  sterner  instead. 

*'  Zoe,  I  will  not  bear  any  trifling  with  me  now.  Speak ; 
I  insist  upon  your  answering  me.  I  know  that  you  are 
truthful.     You  will  not  tell  me  a  lie." 

"No,  I  will  not,"  she  said  with  impetuous  emphasis, 
as  though  she  had  conquered  in  a  struggle  with  herself. 
"You  ask  me  if  I  love  you,  and  I  must  answer,  I  do  not 
know." 


WILD    WORK  167 

*'  Not  know  ?  Your  ignorance  in  tliat  matter  is  recent. 
OncejovL  seemed  to  haye  no  doubt  on  that  score." 

**Ihadnot — then.  I  esteemed  you.  I  felt  sure  that 
I  loyed  you — but,  since — " 

"  Since  then  you  have  lost  your  esteem  for  me." 

**!N"o,  not  that.     I — I  have  seen — " 

''  Ah  !  you  have  seen  some  one  else  you  had  rather  marry. 
I  might  have  known  what  all  this  reluctance  meant." 

"I  have  seen  no  one  I  had  rather  marry." 

''Then  what  do  you  mean  ?  Be  calm,  Zoe  ;  speak  co- 
herently, and  to  the  point,  please." 

"  I  will,  so  far  as  I  can.  I  can  hardly  make  my  feel- 
ings clear  to  you,  for  they  are  not  clear  to  me.  If  they 
had  been  I  would  have  spoken  before  now.  It  has  pained 
me  to  feel  as  if  I  were  imposing  upon  you.  You  shall  hear 
all ;  you  can  understand,  perhaps,  what  I  hardly  compre- 
hend myself.  I  have  met  a  man  in  whom  I  feel  a  singular 
and  unexplainable  interest.  No  matter  where  I  met  him, 
or  what  his  name  may  be.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  his  real 
name,  or  his  family,  or  anything  scarcely  of  his  past  life ; 
but — I  think  of  him  always.  I  am  filled  with  anxiety 
for  his  fate,  for  he  is  what  may  be  called  an  outlaw. 
I  remember  every  word  I  ever  heard  him  speak.  I 
recall  the  look  in  his  eyes,  the  touch  of  his  hand ;  no 
other  look  or  touch  ever  thrilled  me  so.  You  see,  I  am 
holding  nothing  back,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  that  had 
dropped  to  the  floor.  The  deep  flush  that  burned  on 
her  cheeks  witnessed  at  what  cost  she  was  making  this  con- 
fession. 

"And  you  wish  to  marry  this  man  ?"  asked  her  lover 
with  forced  calmness. 

''No,  oh  !  no.  I  would  not ;  I  could  not  marry  him. 
No  woman  of  gentle  blood  could  promise  herself  happiness 
in  marrying  such  a  man.     He  is  rough ;   he  is  reckless, 


lOS  WILD    WORK, 

fierce  at  times.     Something  in  his  life  has  happened  to 
make  him  so." 

"  An  unprincipled  desperado,  like  many  who  are  coming 
to  the  front  just  now." 

"  Unprincipled  !  No,  Eoyal,  no,  he  is  not  unprincipled, 
lie  has  a  high  sense  of  honor  ;  I  have  seen  it  proved,  and 
he  is  brave  ;  there  is  no  hero  in  old  days  that  was  ever 
braver  ;  yet  he  can  be  tamed  by  a  soft  word." 

'' Ah  !  I  know  the  style  of  man — a  modern  Eed  Eover. 
He  rendered  you  some  service.  You  saw  him  in  some  po- 
sition that  excited  your  pity  ;  you  saw  him  do  some  act  of 
cheap  bravado,  and  straightway  your  imagination  painted 
him  a  hero — especially  after  he  told  you  that  he  loved  you." 

*'  But  he  did  not  tell  me  so,  unless  in  some  wild,  impul- 
sive words  that  probably  meant  nothing.  He  rendered  me 
a  service,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  not  until  after  I  had  seen 
him  and — felt  for  him  as  I  have  told  you.  Do  not  be  sar- 
castic. Royal ;  listen  to  me.  I  do  not  know  how  to  analyze 
the  feeling  I  have  for  this  man.  I  could  never  marry  him  ; 
my  judgment  would  oppose  it— and  what  would  my  father 
and  my  brother  say  ?  He  himself  said  he  would  wish  any 
woman  a  better  fate  than  to  marry  him.  I  shall,  in  all 
probability,  never  see  him  again,  for  he  has  gone,  as  he  told 
me,  to  the  outskirts  of  civilization — to  Mexico  or  Utah,  I 
imagine.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  months.  Now  I  have 
told  you  all." 

''All?" 

''Everything,  I  think." 

"And  it  was  the  interest  you  took  in  this  dcsper— I 
mean  in  this  man  that  caused  you  to  put  off  fulfilling  yoTir 
engagement  to  me  ?  " 

"  It  was.  I  could  not  think  it  right  to  marry  you,  feel- 
ing as  I  did  about  another  man." 

"  Yet  you  do  not  respect  him ;  you  would  not  marry 


WILD    WORK,  169 

him  ;  you  have  never  spoken  a  word  of  affection  to  him  or 
listened  to  any  avowal  of  love  on  his  part.  You  never  expect 
him  to  cross  your  path  again — all  this  is  true,  is  it  not  ? " 

*atis." 

^^  And  you  still  care  for  me  ?" 

'^  I  *do  ;  as  much  as  I  ever  did." 

'*Zoe,  depend  upon  it,  your  feeling  for  this  man  is  a 
mere  romantic  fancy — the  impulse  of  an  imaginative,  sym- 
pathetic girl.  Banish  it.  Think  no  more  of  such  a  man. 
Forget  that  you  have  met  him,  and  I  will  forget  it  as  well. 
The  engagement  betwe.  \  us  that  has  lasted  so  long,  until 
you  seem  almost  my  wife,  shall  still  exist — unless  you  wish 
it  to  be  broken.     Do  you  ?  " 

*^No,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  '^I  will  fulfill  my 
promise,  since  you  still  wish  it  after  what  I  have  told  you. 
I  will  try  to  forget  as  truly  as  I  regret  having  ever  met  this 
man." 

"I  am  sure  you  will.  I  love  you  for  your  truthfulness 
in  telling  me  what  you  could  have  easily  kept  back.  I  know 
it  has  been  painful  to  you.  I  will  not  trouble  you  any 
more  to-night.  To-morrow,  if  you  will,  you  shall  name 
the  day  when  you  will  make  me  happy  by  giving  me  this 
little  hand." 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  bowing  as  he  kissed  it, 
and  left  her. 

She  admired  his  good  sense  and  kindness  in  dealing 
with  her  unfortunate  ^' fancy" — and  yet — oh!  contradic- 
tory puzzle  of  woman's  heart  !  she  would  have  liked  him 
better  if  he  had  been  unreasonable  and  jealous — had  gone 
into  a  passion  over  her  confession,  and  upbraided  her  in 
violent  terms. 

But  she  admired  and  respected  him  ;  she  thought  how 
good  and  talented  he  was — how  perfectly  nice,  from  his 
morals  to  his  person — his  well-kept  hands,  his  glossy  hair. 


170  WILD    WOEE. 

his  immaculate  shirt-fronts  and  perfectly  fitting  coat  and 
boots.  What  a  contrast  to  that  other  one — that  long-limbed 
**  desperado,"  as  Royal  had  called  him,  and  as,  perhaps,  he 
deseryed  to  be  called. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

In  the  spring,  now  close  at  hand,  it  would  be  two  years 
since  Zoe  met  this  man  who  had  taken  such  a  hold  upon 
her  sympathy  or  her  imagination  as  to  make  her  feel  it  a 
duty  to  tell  Royal  of  her  interest  in  him.  She  had  then 
been  in  New  Orleans  waiting  the  departure  of  the  steam- 
ship that  would  take  her  to  Havana  to  visit  her  father,  who 
had  gone  there  a  3^ear  before,  and,  entering  into  the  tobacco 
business,  had  endeavored  to  repair  his  damaged  fortune. 
He  had  had  yellow  fever  the  fall  before,  and  had  ever  since 
been  rather  weak  in  health  and  depressed  in  spirits.  His 
usually  cheerful  mind  was  clouded  with  presentiments,  and 
he  longed  to  see  his  daughter.  In  this  mood,  but  without 
frightening  Zoe  by  any  gloomy  expressions,  he  wrote  to  her 
to  come  to  him — for  a  visit,  if  she  should  not  fancy  living 
on  the  island,  or  the  climate  did  not  agree  with  her.  It 
would  be  a  pleasant  trip,  and  she  would  be  well  taken  care 
of  by  any  of  the  captains  of  the  three  United  States  packets 
plying  regularly  between  New  Orleans  and  Cuba,  and  touch- 
ing at  various  ports  along  the  gulf  coast  to  put  off  freight — 
much  of  it  supplies  for  the  United  States  troops  stationed 
at  various  points  on  the  coast  or  along  the  railroad  line  in 
the  interior.  He  knew  the  commanders  of  those  govern- 
ment vessels ;  had  had  business  transactions  with  them, 
and  found  them  gentlemanly  and  honorable. 

Zoe  had  come  down  to  the  city  in  company  with  some 


WILD    WORK  171 

friends,  had  found  the  Lavaca  in  port,  and  advertised  to 
leave  on  next  Tuesday.  The  Captain,  who  called  on  her 
and  gave  her  a  letter  from  her  father,  assured  her  his  vessel 
would  leave  promptly  on  time.  He  had  the  brusque  man- 
ner of  a  seaman — a  tall,  lean,  sandy-haired  giant,  with 
quick,  blunt  speech,  active  and  shrewd — Yankee  to  the 
core,  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  being  struck  with 
Zoe's  dark  southern  eyes  and  dusky  bloom. 

Tuesday,  at  the  hour  announced  for  the  steamer  to 
leave,  Zoe  drove  up  to  the  levee,  but  on  looking  from  the 
carriage  window  she  saw  no  sign  of  preparation  on  board 
the  Lavaca ;  no  smoke  issuing  from  its  chimneys,  and  no 
hurrying  sailors.  Instead,  she  saw  groups  of  people  turn- 
ing away  from  the  boat  with  disappointed  looks.  The 
Captain  saw  her,  and,  coming  up  to  the  carriage,  apologized 
for  an  unexpected  delay  in  the  time  of  his  vessel's  leaving. 
She  could  not  get  away  before  the  next  morning,  owing  to 
the  fact  that  a  portion  of  her  cargo  had  not  arrived,  and 
he  had  received  orders  by  telegi'aph  to  wait  for  it. 

''  Government  stores,  I  presume,"  said  Royal,  who,  with 
his  sister,  had  accompanied  Zoe  to  the  ship. 

The  Captain  bowed,  but  he  looked  embarrassed.  In 
spite  of  his  very  reasonable  explanation  of  the  cause  of  his 
ship's  detention,  Zoe  could  not  help  feeling  that  there  was 
some  mystery  about  the  Lavaca's  delay.  She  did  not  find 
out  what  it  was  until  next  day — some  hours  after  the  vessel 
had  left  the  harbor  of  New  Orleans,  and  when  it  was  just 
leaving  the  mouth  of  the  river  and  entering  upon  the  broad, 
blue  gulf.  Zoe  had  gone  to  the  rear  of  the  ship  for  an 
undisturbed  view.  On  the  deck,  in  front,  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  strange  passengers  and  some  United  States  soldiers, 
under  a  burly  Lieutenant,  whose  staring  regard  annoyed  her. 
Here  she  leaned  unmolested  on  the  railing  and  gazed  in 
calm  enjoyment  at  the  lessening  shores — the  expanse  of 


172  yVILD    WORK. 

colorful  sea,  ruffled  with  light  waves  that  here  and  there 
were  flecked  with  foam. 

The  chatter  of  some  birds  behind  her  drew  her  atten- 
tion, and  she  turned  round  and  admired  the  plump  little 
creatures,  hopping  about  their  rough  cage,  with  green-blue 
backs,  white  breasts,  and  short  bills,  red  as  coral — '*  Ja- 
maica sparrows,"  so  the  old  sailor,  who  was  feeding  them, 
called  them.  He  himself  was  not  an  unpicturesque  figure 
— a  little  wiry,  weather-beaten  man,  in  a  red  shirt  and  tar- 
paulin cap,  but  with  a  shrewd,  bright  eye  set  like  a  black 
bead  under  his  browned  and  wrinkled  brow.  He  laughed 
merrily  at  the  frolics  of  his  pets,  let  them  peck  bits  of  ba- 
nana from  his  mouth  through  the  bars  of  their  cage,  and 
scolded  them  for  not  having  taken  their  bath. 

"  I  wish  all  captives  could  be  as  happy  as  your  birds 
are,"  Zoe  said,  amused  at  their  antics. 

"Yes,  miss,  so  do  I ;  for  instance,  them  jDOor  prisoners 
here  on  board  with  us.  If  they  could  take  more  kindly  to 
their  lot,  'twould  be  better  for  them.  Their  stubborn  ways 
will  only  provoke  the  Lieutenant  in  charge  of  'em  and  our 
Captain,  what's  none  too  good-natured  already. " 

*'  Prisoners  on  board  this  vessel !    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What !  you  don't  know  about  'em,  miss  ?  Maybe  I 
oughtn't  to  spoke  then.  I  knew  'twas  a  secret  on  land,  but 
I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  hid  here  when  we're  all  in  one 
'hollow  oak'  together,  as  the  song  says.  The  prisoners 
was  fetched  to  the  city  last  night,  and  brought  on  board 
here  after  midnight  for  fear  of  there  being  a  row  and  a  res- 
cue by  the  mob  if  they  come  through  the  streets  in  the 
day.  It  was  in  the  night,  too,  that  they  took  'em  out  of 
jail  in  some  town  in  Alabama,  where  they  had  been  since 
they  was  first  arrested.  It  was  feared  there'd  be  a  rush  to 
get  'em  and  set  'em  free  if  they  took  daylight  to  bring  'em 
out." 


WILD    WORK.  173 

*'  What  had  the  prisoners  done  ?  " 
*'Went  to  the  house  of  a  man  that  was  teaching  the 
darkies,  miss,  and  rode  him  on  a  rail,  tarred  and  feathered 
him,  and  sent  the  purty  bird  back  to  his  country,  where  he 
set  up  such  a  croakin'  as  scared  and  angered  the  big  bugs 
so  they  ordered  the  bunch  of  law-breakers  clapped  into  jail ; 
and,  when  they  got  afraid  there'd  be  a  row,  they  telegraphed 
to  the  Lavaca  to  hold  on  and  get  the  prisoners,  and  take 
'em  on  to  the  Dry  Tortugas— the  black  rock  in  the  middle 
of  the  sea,  miss,  where  they've  got  Dr.  Mudd  for  splinter- 
ing the  leg  of  the  chap  that  killed  President  Lincoln." 
"  Where  have  the  prisoners  been  put  ?  " 
^^n  the  ship's  hold,  miss,  a  dirty,  close  box,  for  the 
likes  of  them.     I'm  told  they  belong  to  good  families,  all 
seven  of  them." 

''  Then  there  must  be  some  mistake  as  to  their  offense. 
Southern  gentlemen  would  not  maltreat  a  man  simply  be- 
cause he  taught  negroes." 

The  man  looked  at  her  shrewdly  from  under  his  old  cap. 
Then  his  httle  eyes  twinkled  with  pleasure. 

"I  see  you  are  not  U.  S.,  miss.  So  I  don't  mind  tell- 
ing you.  You  see  this  steamer's  a  United  States  packet, 
and  everything  aboard  her  is  U.  S.,  the  Captain  most  of 
all;  he's  the  strongest  Ead  you  ever  saw.  Well,  most 
of  them  chaps  below  are  real  gentlemen  and  good  fel- 
lows, miss.  One  of  'em  was  my  lieutenant  in  the  Confed- 
erate navy  during  the  war,  and  I  got  a  chance  to  speak 
with  him  last  night. 

"They're  takin'  'em  to  Dry  Tortugas  for  givin'  a  scala- 
wag thief  a  ride  on  a  rail.  They  reported  him  to  the  law, 
and  got  insulted  for  their  pains.  Nigger  school-teacher 
was  what  he  pretended  to  be,  but  he  was  a  rogue,  and  he 
lived  by  robbing  the  planters,  getting  the  niggers  to  steal 
cotton  and  corn  from  their  employers,  and  bring  them  to 


174  WILD    WORK, 

him  in  the  niglit  and  get  whisky  and  tobacco  for  them. 
He  bought  a  little  cotton  for  a  blind,  and  packed  and  sent 
off  his  bales  by  the  dozen.  The  planters  had  stood  it  a 
long  time,  with  only  a  little  cursin'  and  threatenin',  that 
just  tickled  the  thief,  when  a  fellow,  a  Texan,  happened 
to  stop  in  the  neighborhood,  and  put  them  up  to  taking 
the  law  in  their  own  hands,  and  getting  clear  of  the  rascal 
in  the  way  I  told  you  of.  He  wasn't  hurt ;  only  scared  out 
of  his  cowardly  wits,  and  thought  he'd  do  a  good  job  by 
playing  off  as  a  martyr  to  Southern  prejudices.  That's  the 
prisoners'  story,  miss,  and  I  beheve  every  word  of  it.  They 
don't  look  a  bit  like  rowdies,  not  even  the  Texan,  though 
he's  all  torn  and  bloody." 

*^  Bloody?" 

"  He  fought  before  he'd  let  'em  take  him,  miss." 

*'  Was  he  wounded  badly  ?" 

*^I  can't  tell.  He  doesn't  talk  any,  but  he  won't  eat, 
and  he  looks  dreadful.  Them  handcuffs  are  bad  for  him 
in  his  fix." 

**  Handcuffs  !    Have  they  got  chains  upon  them  ?  " 

**  You  bet  they  have,  though  one  of  them  soldiers  told 
me  the  handcuffs  was  to  be  taken  off  as  soon  as  we  were 
fairly  out  at  sea,  and  only  put  on  when  we  stop  in  port  or 
go  near  the  shore.  The  Texan,  though,  is  to  have  'em  on 
all  the  time,  to  punish  him  for — Whist !  here  comes  the 
Captain.  Be  mum  about  the  prisoners,  miss,"  and  the  old 
sailor  turned  off  and  began  to  whistle  unconcernedly  as  the 
Captain  approached. 

It  was  probable  that  the  commander  did  not  wish  his 
passengers  to  know  the  nature  of  the  ^*  Government  stores  " 
he  had  delayed  his  vessel  to  take  on  board,  but  it  had 
already  transpired,  and  his  passengers  had  been  besieging 
him  to  give  them  a  sight  of  the  prisoners.  He  told  Zoe  he 
had  just  had  the  hatchway  thrown  open,  **and  now,"  he 


WILD    WORK.  175 

said  sarcastically,  ^'I  suppose  you  too  have  your  feminine 
sympathies  excited,  and  want,  besides,  a  chance  to  rail  at 
the  Government  and  the  Yankees.  So  will  you  come  and 
see  my  show  ?  " 

She  hesitated  a  little  before  she  went  round  with  him  to 
the  forward  part  of  the  vessel,  where  the  heavy  iron-clamped 
door  of  the  hatchway  had  been  thrown  open,  and  a  group  of 
men  and  women  were  standing  around  the  oblong  opening 
looking  down  into  the  hold.  Mrs.  Moss — a  pretty  young 
married  woman,  the  pet  of  a  husband  twice  as  old  as  herself 
— was  down  upon  her  knees  dropping  flowers  to  the  prison- 
ers. "Flirting  with  them  already,"  the  Captain  said  sar- 
donically. 

He  pushed  a  gentleman  aside  and  made  room  for  Zee 
and  himself  near  the  edge  of  the  hatchway. 

"There  are  your  high-toned  countrymen,  Miss  Vin- 
cent," he  said. 

The  men  below  heard  the  sneer.  Eyes  were  raised,  and 
flashed  defiance  at  the  speaker.  Others  stood  in  stoical 
quiet,  a  curl  of  contempt  Just  perceptible  on  their  lips. 
They  were  no  common  outlaws.  One  could  see  this  in  spite 
of  their  soiled,  disordered  looks.  Their  handcuffs  had  been 
taken  off,  and  lay  in  a  pile  at  the  feet  of  the  soldier  who 
had  been  sent  to  remove  them. 

"  Here  are  only  six  men,"  said  some  one  to  the  Lieuten- 
ant, who  was  puffing  at  a  cigar,  and  staring  with  bold  ad- 
miration at  the  unconscious  Zoe.     "  Where's  the  seventh  ?  " 

"  Yonder  he  lies.  His  bracelets  are  not  to  be  taken  off. 
He  is  too  important  a  personage." 

"The  lead  wolf  of  the  pack,"  put  in  the  Captain. 
"Fought,  and  nearly  killed  a  good  soldier  before  he'd  be 
taken.  Stir  him  up.  These  ladies  want  to  see  the  whole 
show.  Make  him  come  out  from  under  that  hat,  can't 
you?" 


176  Tr/zz>  wo  UK, 

The  man  spoken  of  sat,  or  ratlier  lay,  apart  from  the 
others  upon  an  old  wooden  chest,  another  box  covered  by 
a  coat  propping  his  head.  His  shirt-sleeve  was  torn  and 
bloody,  his  manacled  arms  were  folded  on  his  chest,  his  hat 
slouched  over  his  face.  He  did  not  move  when  the  Cap- 
tain spoke,  nor  when  the  soldier  touching  him  said  :  "  Look 
uj),  Hirne." 

**Stop,"  cried  the  Captain,  and,  taking  up  a  long  bam- 
boo cane  that  lay  on  the  deck,  he  reached  down  and  tipped 
off  the  prisoner's  hat  from  his  head. 

The  man  leaped  to  his  feet ;  his  eyes  blazed  upon  his 
insulter  with  the  glare  of  a  caged  and  maddened  lion.  The 
Captain  recoiled  under  the  sudden  fury  of  that  look. 

"Yankee  coward,"  said  the  prisoner  between  his  set 
teeth,  "you  would  not  dare  insult  a  man  unless  his  chains 
made  it  safe  for  you." 

The  Captain  was  furious,  but  the  Lieutenant  prevailed 
on  him  to  say  no  more. 

"  You  brought  it  on  yourself  by  noticing  the  fellow,"  he 
said. 

That  night  the  Lavaca  reached  Pensacola,  and  lay  at 
anchor  for  some  hours  in  its  magnificent  bay  ;  and  the  next 
afternoon  she  was  lying  at  the  wharf  of  the  Navy  Yard. 
It  was  warm  and  sultry.  The  hatchway  was  open,  and  pass- 
ing near  it  Zoe  saw  that  the  men  were  handcuffed  again,  as 
the  old  sailor  had  said  they  would  be  whenever  the  vessel 
approached  the  shore.  A  tall,  bony  woman,  in  black  bom- 
bazine and  green  spectacles,  with  the  look  of  a  female  lec- 
turer, was  standing  up  under  an  umbrella,  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  opening,  haranguing  the  unfortunates  below  upon 
the  error  of  their  ways,  and  dropping  down  upon  them  a 
shower  of  tracts.  Most  of  them  sat  passive  under  her  elo- 
quence ;  a  few  smiled  disdainfully  as  they  took  in  their  man- 
acled hands  the  tracts  that  fluttered  down  to  them.      As 


WILD    WORK  177 

she  turned  off  out  of  breath  one  of  them  returned  thanks 
with  humorous  unction  ;  another  read  the  title  of  his  tract, 
"Bread  of  Life." 

"  Considering  our  short  rations,  I'd  thank  the  marm  a 
little  more  if  this  was  literal  instead  of  figurative  bread," 
he  said. 

*'If  it  was,  be  sure  the  close-fisted  Yankee  wouldn't  be 
so  quick  to  give  it,"  responded  the  sardonic  voice  of  the 
man  with  blood  on  his  sleeve  as  he  turned  his  head  on  his 
hard  pillow  and  smiled  grimly. 

A  small  schooner  from  Cedar  Keys  loaded  with  oranges 
and  bananas  had  come  alongside  the  Lavaca.  Zoe  bought 
the  finest  bunch  of  yellow  bananas  in  the  lofc,  and  got  the 
old  sailor,  Jack  Barnes,  to  take  them  down  to  the  prisoners. 

"  With  the  compliments  of  a  true-hearted  girl,  my  boys, 
who  wants  you  to  know  there's  one  friend  you  have  on 
board,  if  no  more,"  said  Jack  as  he  deposited  his  luscious 
burden  on  the  floor  and  looked  up  to  see  that  none  of  the 
ship's  officers  were  in  hearing. 

*'  Thank  her  for  us.  Jack,  and  beg  her  to  let  us  have  a 
glimpse  of  her,"  said  one  boyish  young  prisoner.  *' She's 
even  nicer  than  her  bananas,  I  dare  swear." 

"And  you  wouldn't  be  wrong  either,  my  hearty- 
Whist  !  there  she  is  ! "  he  broke  off  as  Zoe  stepped  near  the 
edge  of  the  hatchway  and  glanced  down.  Instantly  all  eyes 
were  lifted,  all  heads  bowed — all  but  the  sick  man's.  He 
did  not  see  her ;  he  had  turned  away  his  head  and  closed 
his  eyes  again. 

"Will  not  your  comrade  try  some  of  the  fruit  ?"  Zoe 
asked,  indicating  him  by  the  direction  of  her  eye. 

"He's  feverish,  miss,  and  doesn't  care  for  any,"  said 
one  of  the  prisoners  ;  whereupon  the  man  spoken  of  turned 
his  head  and  nodded,  saying  :  "But  he  thanks  you  all  the 
same." 


178  WILD    WORK. 

He  smiled,  too,  a  smile  that  lit  his  stern  features  into 
singular  attractiveness.  His  bronzed  cheek  was  flushed 
with  fever,  his  eyes  watery  bright,  but  the  forehead,  from 
which  the  hat  had  been  pushed  away,  was  broad  and  white, 
though  it  had  lines  of  care  upon  it.  It  looked  a  totally 
different  face  from  the  one  she  had  seen  before  with  the 
scowl  of  sullen  endurance  or  the  flash  of  fierce  resentment 
upon  it. 

As  she  walked  off  she  said  to  the  sailor  : 

**  He  looks  to  be  suffering.  I  wish  I  could  do  something 
for  him." 

'^  It  is  his  wound,  miss.  It  is  an  ugly  bayonet  thrust 
in  the  shoulder ;  the  heat  frets  and  fevers  it,  and  I  don't 
think  it's  been  half  dressed.  The  ship's  surgeon  is  sick — 
or,  to  tell  the  truth,  he's  on  a  spree.  It's  hot  and  close 
down  there,  and  the  flesh  flies  are  swarmin'." 

Zoe  shuddered. 

'^1  must  try  to  help  him,"  she  said.  *^Does  he  com- 
plain ?  " 

**  Only  of  thirst,  miss  ;  the  water  is  so  bad." 

"  And  there  is  plenty  of  ice  on  board.  At  least  he  shall 
have  a  cool  drink. " 

Going  into  the  cabin,  she  sent  for  iced  lemonade.  It 
came  in  a  glass  pitcher,  looking  cool  and  tempting.  The 
Captain  accompanied  the  boy  who  brought  it. 

"  It's  nice,"  he  said  ;  '*  I  made  it  myself." 

'*  Thanks.  As  you  made  it,  I  will  drink  a  little  of  it, 
though  I  intend  it  for  another — the  poor  wounded  man 
down  stairs.     He  has  fever,  and  is  consumed  with  thirst." 

*'  If  I  had  known  that,  I  certainly  would  not  have  made 
the  lemonade,"  the  Captain  said  gruffly.  *'  Miss  Vincent, 
do  you  make  it  a  point  to  encourage  law-breaking  ?  " 

"No,  Captain  Lester  ;  but  I  try  to  follow  the  law  of  the 
highest  Law-giver,  which  enjoins  uj^on  us  care  for  our 


WILD    WORK.  179 

fellow-creatures.  That  prisoner  is  suffering  from  neglect, 
and  want  of  proper  food  and  medicine.  His  wound  may 
mortify,  and  death  ensue." 

"  I  can't  help  that ;  it's  the  place  of  Osborne  and  his 
fellows  to  see  to  their  prisoners.  If  I  had  my  way  I'd  toss 
the  lot  of  them  overboard,  and  save  expense  to  the  Govern- 
ment." 

Zoe  made  no  reply,  beyond  a  look  under  which  the  Cap- 
tain changed  countenance,  though  he  affected  to  laugh. 
Presently  she  asked : 

^^Will  you  not  at  least  speak  to  Lieutenant  Osborne 
about  the  sick  prisoner  ?  " 

^'  No,  Miss  Vincent,  it's  no  business  of  mine,  and  the 
fellow  has  been  insolent  to  me." 

"  Will  you  introduce  me  to  Lieutenant  Osborne  ?" 

He  gave  her  a  quick  glance  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
and  made  no  answer  on  the  instant.     At  last  he  said  : 

^'  I  can  introduce  you  ;  but  I  warn  you  that  Osborne  is 
not  a  man  that  a  girl  traveling  without  her  friends  ought 
to  know." 

^*I  am  not  afraid  he  will  do  me  any  harm.  I  can  take 
care  of  myself,"  she  said  coldly. 

^^  Oh  !  in  that  case  I  will  give  you  the  introduction. 
Here,  Osborne,  come  this  way.  Here' s  a  young  lady  who 
wishes  to  know  you.     You're  in  luck,  you  see." 

The  officer  came  up  at  once,  and  with  a  flush  of  anger 
on  his  forehead  the  Captain  introduced  the  two  in  his 
curtest  way,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  left  them.  The 
burly  Lieutenant,  much  flattered,  bowed  low  and  began  an 
elaborate  compliment,  which  Zoe  cut  short  by  telling  him 
at  once  her  reason  for  wishing  to  speak  to  him,  and  plead- 
ing the  cause  of  the  sick  prisoner  with  so  much  gentle 
earnestness  that  Osborne,  with  his  fat  hand  on  his  heart, 
promised  the  man  should  be  looked  after  at  once — a  promise 


ISO  WILD    WORK. 

which  he  made  it  convenient  to  forget,  or  the  fulfillment 
of  which  he  indefinitely  postponed. 

Tliat  evening,  while  most  of  the  passengers  were  eating 
their  early  supper  in  the  cabin,  and  the  Captain,  the  Purser, 
the  Lieutenant,  and  some  ladies,  whom  Lester  had  invited 
to  sup  with  him,  were  enjoying  oysters,  lobster  salad,  and 
wine  in  the  officer's  private  mess-room,  Zoe,  who  had  de- 
clined the  Captain's  invitation  to  his  supper,  took  the  opr 
portunity  to  stroll  about  the  deck  ;  to  look  out  over  the  sea 
where,  low  in  the  west,  the  sunset  fires  had  not  yet  died. 

The  hatchway  door  was  down,  and  she  heard  nothing  of 
the  prisoners.  Presently,  however,  confused  sounds  from 
below  came  to  her  ears,  and  in  the  midst  of  them  Jack 
Barnes  came  running  toward  her,  having  come  up  from 
that  lower  world  by  some  ladder  and  trap-door  in  another 
part  of  the  ship. 

"  Hirne  has  a  fainting  fit ;  he  looks  like  death.  I  be- 
lieve he  will  die  if  he  is  kept  down  there,"  he  said  to  her. 

Shocked  and  distressed,  she  ran  to  the  door  of  the  mess- 
room  and  called  Lieutenant  Osborne.  The  officer,  bowing 
gallantly,  tossed  off  the  glass  of  wine  he  had  just  lifted  to 
his  lips,  and,  coming  out  to  her,  was  told  of  the  prisoner's 
condition. 

"  Let  him  be  brought  up  here  and  his  wound  attended 
to,"  pleaded  Zoe.  "  If  there  are  extra  charges  for  his  being 
brought  up  here  I  will  pay  them,  and  I  will  stand  for  his 
good  conduct." 

Then,  as  she  saw  his  hesitating,  indifferent  look,  her 
indignation  flamed  up.  Coming  close  to  him,  she  said  : 
'^  If  you  do  not  do  this,  sir,  I  will  report  you.  I  can  not 
believe  that  your  orders  were  to  treat  your  prisoners  worse 
than  brutes." 

He  flushed.  *^  Look  here,  miss,"  he  began,  excitedly,  but 
he  calmed  down  and  took  on  an  injured  tone.     ''Miss  Vin- 


WILD    WOEK.  131 

cent,  I  hope  I  know  my  duty  to  my  fellow-man  as  well  as 
to  my  coimtry,"  he  said.  ^'I  don't  need  to  be  badgered 
about  that  prisoner.  If  he's  sick  I'll  have  him  attended 
to.  There's  so  much  infernal  shamming  about  his  sort  it 
takes  a  smart  one  to  know  when  there's  anything  real  the 
matter." 

He  gave  orders  to  have  the  prisoner  brought  up  and  laid 
on  deck  under  the  canvas  awning  that  had  been  put  up 
during  the  day  as  a  protection  from  the  sun.  Zoe  found 
him  there  when  she  came  with  water  and  ice.  He  was 
lying  on  a  blanket,  and,  kneeling  down,  she  put  her  folded 
shawl  under  his  head.  The  light  of  a  lantern,  flashed  over 
his  face,  showed  that  he  had  recovered  consciousness.  His 
hands,  as  Zoe  touched  them,  almost  scorched  her,  so  hot 
were  they. 

''Take  off  these  handcuffs  for  the  love  of  mercy,"  she 
said  ;  "they  are  a  mockery  in  his  condition." 

''  Better  let  them  be  ;  he's  only  playing  possum,"  sneer- 
ed the  Captain,  who  stood  looking  on  ;  but  the  Lieutenant 
gave  orders  to  have  the  manacles  removed,  and  the  poor 
prisoner  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  they  fell  from  his  hands. 
The  surgeon,  still  in  no  condition  to  attend  the  man,  sent 
word  that  the  dressing  on  his  wound  must  be  kept  con- 
stantly wet  in  cold  water,  and  cold  applications  must  be 
made  to  his  head.  Seeing  that  no  one  else  offered  to  attend 
to  these  directions,  Zoe  set  herself  to  the  task.  The  Lieu- 
tenant, perceiving  that  she  took  no  notice  of  him,  and  the 
Captain,  finding  that  she  would  not  reply  to  his  sarcasms, 
went  off  after  awhile  ;  and  then  the  ladies,  whom  curiosity 
or  compassion  had  drawn  around  the  sick  man,  gradually 
dropped  away,  except  the  stewardess — an  honest,  good- 
natured  woman — whom  Zoe  begged  to  stay  with  her.  The 
two  soldiers  on  guard  hung  the  lantern  near  Zoe  and  with- 
drew to  the  railing  where  they  could  chew  their  tobacco  and 


182  WILD   WORK. 

wonder  when  they  were  going  back  to  the  command.  The 
stewardess  talked  herself  tired,  and  began  to  nod.  Zoe 
kept  up  unremittingly  her  applications  of  cold  water  to 
the  bandages  of  the  wound  and  to  the  hot, forehead  that 
throbbed  so  under  her  palm.  He  lay  quiet ;  only  at  times 
he  seemed  to  lapse  into  delirium  and  muttered  incohe- 
rently. Once  he  started  up  and  gave  the  word  of  com- 
mand :  '*  Forward,  march,"  then  stared  around,  met  the 
soothing  look  of  Zoe,  seemed  to  gather  consciousness,  and 
dropped  back  upon  his  pallet. 

Another  time  he  spoke  in  Spanish,  and  once,  when  Zoe 
had  her  hand  wet  in  ice-water  on  his  forehead,  he  snatched 
it  away,  exclaiming : 

"  Off,  snake  !  Women  are  snakes.  They  creep  into 
your  heart  and  sting  it." 

The  instant  after,  as  if  yaguely  remembering  that  he 
had  said  something  unkind,  he  turned  toward  Zoe,  and, 
taking  her  hand,  put  it  mutely  to  his  lips. 

It  was  hours  before  the  fever  cooled,  and  he  fell  asleep. 
Zoe  sat  watching  him.  He  looked  much  younger  now,  with 
the  long  lashes  lying  against  his  thin  cheeks,  his  wet  hair 
in  dark  rings  on  his  forehead,  and  the  bitter  look  gone  from 
his  mouth.  At  first  sight  she  had  seen  a  history  written 
upon  his  face — a  record  of  stormy  experiences  and  strong 
passions ;  characters  almost  repelling  in  their  fierceness. 
Now  that  sleep  had  softened  these,  one  could  see  the  fine 
points  about  the  face — the  breadth  of  the  brow,  a  hint  of 
tenderness  in  the  mouth,  of  manly  energy  in  the  chin  and 
round  throat  exposed  by  the  open  shirt.  A  broad  breast 
was  also  laid  bare,  across  which  was  seen  a  long,  purplish 
scar. 

Jack  Barnes  came  up,  being  at  last  relieved  of  duty,  and 
took  Zoe's  place  beside  her  sleeping  patient.  At  her  direc- 
tion he  was  covered  with  a  blanket  from  the  chilliness  that 


WILD    WORK.  183 

was  apt  to  set  in  as  a  reaction  from  the  fever.  Then  leav- 
ing him  with  Jack,  who  promised  to  watch  him  till  morn- 
ing, she  waked  the  stewardess,  thanked  her,  and  went  into 
the  cabin.  The  lights  were  turned  almost  down;  she 
thought  everybody  had  retired  until  Captain  Lester  stood 
before  her. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you, "  he  said.  ''  Do  you  think 
your  father  would  approve  of  this  nocturnal  devotion  to  an 
outlaw,  a  desperado  who  has  worn  the  handcuffs  before  to- 
day?" 

*'  I  do  not  think  my  father  would  disapprove  of  my  try- 
ing to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  a  sick  and  friendless  man, 
and  I  am  sure  my  conscience  does  not." 

'^It's  a  great  salve  to  conscience  in  such  a  case  when 
the  sufferer  happens  to  be  young  and  good-looking,"  the 
Captain  said,  with  his  short,  sneering  laugh.  "  Miss  Vin- 
cent, good-night ;  don't  refuse  to  shake  hands.  IS'o  doubt 
you  think  me  a  savage,  but  I  only  hate  to  see  sweet  meats 
thrown  to  dogs.  There  are  others  in  this  ship  would  give 
its  cargo  for  the  attentions  you  are  wasting  on  that  vaga- 
bond." 

Early  next  morning,  before  any  one  but  the  sailors  and 
soldiers  on  guard  were  stirring,  Zoe  was  dressed  and  out  on 
deck.  The  morning  was  fine,  the  sea  was  furrowed  by  a 
lio-ht  wind,  and  in  the  blue  distance  the  coast  line  was 
visible,  just  edging  the  horizon.  Jack  came  up,  cap  in 
hand,  and  gave  a  good  account  of  his  patient.  He  had 
slept  pretty  well,  and  was  now  almost  clear  of  fever,  but 
very  weak.  He  (Jack)  had  prevailed  on  the  cook  to  make 
the  sick  man  some  soup,  as  he  had  tasted  nothing  since  he 
came  on  board,  it  being  impossible  for  him  to  eat  the  bread 
and  salt  pork  rations  of  the  prisoners. 

Zoe  went  to  him  and  found  him  quiet,  but  by  no  means 
rid  of  fever.     He  put  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  the  slight 


184  y^^LD    WORK. 

pressure  of  his  fingers  and  tlie  look  he  gave  her  touched 
her  more  than  any  word  of  thanks.  He  reported  himself 
^^  better — almost  ready  again  for  the  handcuffs  and  the 
black  hold,"  and  then,  as  he  lay  propped  up,  his  eye  went 
out  over  the  sea  to  the  shore-line  not  many  miles  distant, 
and  kindled  with  an  eager  flash. 

"  I  could  swim  it,  I  think,"  he  said  low  ;  "  and  I'd  make 
the  jump  and  try  it,  in  spite  of  this  hole  in  my  shoulder, 
if  it  wasn't  that  I  know  the  bullets  of  those  bluecoats  yon- 
der wouldn't  give  me  half  a  chance.  I  don't  want  to  die 
at  last  by  a  Yankee  ball.     My  work  is  not  ended  yet." 

^'I  hope  you  will  not  think  of  running  such  a  risk," 
Zoe  said,  earnestly.  *'  I  know  you  will  not  when  I  tell  you 
I  made  myself  responsible  for  your  good  conduct.  I  pledged 
my  word  that  you  would  not  try  to  escape." 

**  Then  your  word  must  not  be  broken.  I'll  not 
abuse  your  confidence.  You  have  been  very  good  to  me, 
Miss  Vincent — disinterestedly  good — and  that's  rare  with 
women." 

"Is  it?" 

"Yes;  their  goodness  has  usually  dregs  of  selfishness. 
In  your  case  there  are  none .  You  could  have  no  motive 
but  pure  benevolence  in  being  kind  to  a  dirty,  friendless 
outlaw,  especially  when  your  kindness  to  him  drew  on  you 
the  disfavor  of  your  friends.  I've  seen  that  last  well 
enough,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  make  such  a  sacrifice  for 
my  sake,  young  lady.  Best  avoid  me  ;  I  am  an  unlucky 
dog,  and  I  always  bring  trouble  on  the  few  that  espouse  my 
cause." 

"  I  have  no  friends  on  board  or  acquaintances  for  whose 
favor  I  care.  I  will  not  avoid  you,  unless  you  wish  it  for 
your  own  sake." 

Again  he  gave  her  the  look  that  had  seemed  better  than 
thanks.     His  blue-gray  ej^es,  that  could  seem  points  of 


WILD    WORK.  185 

flame  at  times,  had  at  other  times  a  strangely  soft  and  mel- 
ancholy look.  That  look,  in  connection  with  the  bloody 
sleeve,  the  wan  cheek  and  throbbing  temples,  so  moved 
Zoe's  sympathy  that  she  determined  to  give  him  every  at- 
tention, nnmindful  of  the  Captain's  sneers,  the  imperti- 
nences of  the  Lieutenant,  and  the  gossip  of  the  women. 
She  sat  by  him  all  the  morning,  listening  to  him.  He  had 
just  fever  enough  to  excite  him  and  make  him  talk — a  little 
wildly  and  disconnectedly  at  times,  but  with  such  sudden 
flashes  of  quaint  fancy,  such  wild,  humorous,  imaginative 
turns  of  thought,  that  Zoe,  looking  at  him,  asked  impul- 
sively : 

**  Did  you  never  write  poetry  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  once.  Once  I  dreamed  I  was  a  poet — and  wrote 
— things  poured  out  of  my  heart." 

"  Where  are  some  of  them  now  ?  " 

*^ Where?  Oh!  that  was  long  ago,"  he  said,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  forehead.  ^'  Long  ago — it  seems  long — 
long.  Before  the  simoom  passed  through  my  heart  and 
dried  all  its  fountains — before — " 

His  brow  gathered  into  a  tumult,  his  long,  slender  fin- 
gers grasped  his  temples  convulsively  as  if  to  pluck  out 
some  memory  that  writhed  within  his  brain. 

The  spasm  passed ;  his  hand  fell  to  his  side,  and  he 
turned  to  Zoe  with  a  smile  of  self-mockery. 

'^How  grandiloquent  that  was  !  I  meant  to  say,  young 
lady,  that  I  wrote  verses  in  my  green  and  tender  youth, 
and  thought  myself  destined  to  the  poet's  crown.  I  have 
gotten  bravely  over  that  illusion,  together  with  some  others 
born  of  the  same  verdant  imagination." 

His  talk  gave  Zoe  glimpses  into  his  past  life.  She  felt 
that  he  had  suffered  some  hard  trial,  some  wrong  that  had 
warped  his  nature. 

He  was  without  ties  of  blood  or  of  law  ;  neither  parents. 


186  WILD    WORK. 

brother,  sister,  wife,  nor  cliild,  lie  said ;  nor  any  to  care  if 
his  bones  should  be  left  to  rot  on  the  Dry  Tortugas. 

She  was  alone  with  him  the  greater  part  of  the  morn- 
ing ;  others  came  up  and  stood  or  sat  near  for  a  while,  but 
the  stolid  look  that  came  into  his  face  and  the  silence  he 
maintained  while  they  stayed  were  not  encouraging,  and 
they  soon  moved  off.  The  soldiers  stood  out  of  hearing  of 
his  low  tones,  and  Zoe  paid  no  attention  to  their  occasional 
glances  in  her  direction,  nor  to  their  half  audible  jokes  and 
occasional  laughter. 

Captain  Lester  came  up  sometimes,  standing  by  with 
folded  arms,  and  eying  Zoe  with  a  look  of  haughty  dis- 
pleasure, or  uttering  a  sarcasm  intended  for  her  ears. 

"His  tongue  wags  all  right,"  he  said  once  to  the  Lieu- 
tenant. "If  he  can  use  his  legs  and  arms  as  well  as  he 
does  his  tongue — and  I  believe  he  can — you'd  better  call  up 
your  jeweler.  I  see  he  has  put  the  bracelets  on  the  others. 
I  hear  there's  a  lot  more  of  sjmapathetic  females  who  have 
got  wind  of  our  precious  cargo,  and  are  coming  from  Appa- 
lachicola  in  the  Shamrock  this  afternoon  with  pies  and 
pound-cakes,  bouquets  and  tears,  and  such  like  feminine 
incense  for  our  martyrs.  Confound  such  nuisances !  I 
wish  the  blockhead  Government  had  found  some  quicker 
way  of  getting  rid  of  these  fellows,  or  some  other  vessel  to 
send  them  off  on.  If  there's  a  thing  I  hate,  it's  to  be  an- 
noyed with  sympathetic  women." 

"Don't  let  your  jealousy  run  away  with  your  pa- 
triotism, Lester,"  retoi-ted  the  burly  Lieutenant  with  a 
chuckle.  The  Captain,  affecting  not  to  hear  him,  strode 
away. 

The  Lavaca  was  now  anchored  in  the  harbor  of  Appa- 
lachicola,  half  a  mile  or  more  from  the  picturesque  little 
town.  The  bay  was  too  shallow  to  admit  of  the  steamship's 
nearer  approach  to  shore,  but  a  lighter — a  little  steamer 


WILD   WORK.  187 

called  the  Shamrock — was  busy  transporting  the  portion  of 
the  cargo  that  was  consigned  to  this  port. 

Little  boats,  containing  fresh  fish  and  vegetables,  came 
up  alongside  the  anchored  steamship.  In  one  of  them  sat 
a  nut-brown  woman,  with  a  basket  of  green  peas  on  her  lap, 
atop  of  which  lay  a  bunch  of  fresh  flowers.  Seeing  Zoe's 
lovely  face  as  she  leaned  over  the  deck  railing,  the  woman 
stood  up,  held  out  her  bouquet,  and,  laughing  till  her  white 
teeth  gleamed  from  her  brown  face,  she  threw  the  flowers 
up  into  the  girl's  outstretched  hands. 

Zoe  carried  them  with  her  to  her  seat,  and  gave  a  clus- 
ter of  the  English  honeysuckles  to  her  patient.  She  sat 
with  the  other  flowers  in  her  hand  when  the  Lieutenant 
came  up.  He  had  been  drinking  ;  his  face  was  even  redder 
than  its  wont ;  he  leered  at  the  girl  as  his  small,  sensuous 
eye  took  in  the  grace  of  her  figure,  the  ivory  curve  of  her 
neck,  the  dusk  bloom  of  her  cheek  as  she  bent  over  the 
flowers  she  was  rearranging. 

''  Well,  Miss  Vincent,"  he  said,  '^  I've  come  to  claim 
the  fulfillment  of  your  pledge.  You  promised  to  pay  all 
extra  charges  if  I  would  have  your  pet  brought  up  here 
and  give  him  the  privilege  of  fresh  air  and  the  light  of  your 
lovely  face.  I've  done  so,  and  now  I'm  come  to  claim  my 
pay." 

Zoe  saw  the  look  that  darkened  over  Hime's  face,  and 
thought  best,  for  his  sake,  to  give  a  playful  rejoinder. 

*'  Will  you  take  my  roses  in  pay  ?  "  she  said,  smiling,  and 
holding  out  her  nosegay.  "  Kind  acts  should  only  be  paid 
for  in  flowers." 

"  I'd  rather  have  one  of  the  roses  that  bloom  on  your 
cheeks,"  he  said,  bending  over  her  until  his  whiskied 
breath  was  hot  upon  her  face.  ^^  Come,  now,  it's  only  fair, 
and  there's  nobody  looking." 

His  arm  went  around  her  neck  and  tightened  as  she 
9 


188  WILD    WORK. 

struggled.  The  next  instant  he  was  stretched  upon  the 
deck,  and  Hirne  was  stamping  him.  Instantly  three  sol- 
diers rushed  up  and  caught  the  Texan  from  behind.  He 
turned  on  them  furiously,  but,  as  he  did  so,  he  staggered, 
threw  his  arm  up  wildly,  and  fell  back  swooning. 

The  Lieutenant  sfcrambled  to  his  feet,  panting  and  curs- 
ing as  he  wiped  his  perspiring  forehead  and  felt  of  the  spot 
where  the  Texan  had  planted  the  blow.  Most  of  the  pas- 
sengers were  in  the  cabin ;  only  one  or  two  had  seen  the 
incident,  which  had  been  all  over  in  a  minute.  The  Cap- 
tain came  up,  and,  quickly  understanding  what  was  the 
matter,  seemed  inwardly  rejoiced. 

'^  Now,"  he  said,  pointing  to  Hirne,  who  had  recovered 
from  his  swoon,  *'  I  guess  you'll  have  that  fellow  hand- 
cuffed, and  send  him  below,  as  I  told  you  to.  You'll 
have  him  to  account  for,  else.  He's  shamming  for  a  pur- 
pose." 

Hirne  was  taken  below.  He  nerved  himself  to  walk 
firmly,  but  Zoe  could  see  that  he  staggered.  As  he  passed 
her  he  held  out  his  hand ;  she  had  just  time  to  give  him 
hers,  to  feel  her  fingers  pressed  in  a  convulsive  clasp,  when 
he  was  roughly  pushed  on  by  the  soldiers. 

Fresh  blood-stains  were  on  his  arm  and  shoulder  from 
his  reopened  wound  ;  his  face  was  ghastly. 

"  He  will  die,"  moaned  Zoe,  in  the  solitude  of  her  state- 
room.    **  I  have  killed  him  instead  of  helping  him." 

She  saw  him  no  more  during  the  trip,  save  one  glimpse 
she  got  of  him  by  the  light  of  the  ship's  torches  as  the 
prisoners  were  carried  ashore  at  the  Dry  Tortugas.  From 
her  state-room  window  she  was  watching  with  strained 
eyes ;  she  saw  him  come  out  supported  by  Jack  Barnes 
and  walking  with  difficulty.  The  light  of  the  torch 
flared  one  moment  over  his  pale  face  and  over  the  gloom 
and  barrenness  of  the  island  prison.     Then  the  file  of 


WILD    WORK.  189 

prisoners,  and  the  blue  coats  and  flashing  bayonets  of 
the  soldier  guard  were  swallowed  up  in  the  shadows  of 
midnight. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ZoE  had  returned  to  New  Orleans  in  the  early  autumn. 
She  had  drooped  through  the  long,  hot  summer  in  Havana. 
Even  her  brother's  home  on  Eed  River,  with  its  malarial 
dangers,  which  she  had  learned  to  guard  against,  seemed 
better  suited  to  her  health.  She  did  not  return  in  the  La- 
vaca. Captain  Lester  had  shown  his  preference  for  her  in 
such  rough  fashion  on  the  former  trip  that  she  had  no  wish 
to  put  herself  in  his  company. 

They  passed  the  Dry  Tortugas  in  the  day.  She  learned 
that  the  Alabama  prisoners  had  been  pardoned  through  the 
intercession  of  friends  two  months  before — all  but  one — the 
^^  ringleader  of  the  mischief,"  said  her  informant,  and  she 
knew  he  spoke  of  Hirne. 

'^  And  where  is  he  ?  "  she  asked  with  forced  calmness. 

^^  Drowned  or  escaped,  it  is  hard  to  tell  which.  He  gave 
the  guard  the  slip  in  the  night ;  a  soldier  saw  and  pursued 
him,  and  was  close  to  him  when  he  took  to  the  water,  ex- 
claiming as  he  jumped  in,  '  Good-by,  I'm  going  to  Davy's 
Locker.'  The  man  thought  he  had  drowned  himself,  but 
some  of  the  others  knew  him  to  be  a  good  swimmer, .  and, 
as  a  schooner  was  lying  becalmed  three  miles  away,  it  is 
possible  he  may  have  got  to  her.  They  would  have  over- 
hauled the  schooner  next  morning,  but  a  wind  sprang  up 
about  daylight,  and  she  was  out  of  sight  in  no  time." 

Zoe  stayed  a  month  in  New  Orleans,  where  she  had  good 
friends  besides  the  sister  and  mother  of  young  West.    It  had 


190  WILD    WORK 

been  understood  that  she  would  marry  Royal  in  December, 
but  she  urged  her  languid  health  and  other  considerations 
of  a  prudential  nature  as  reasons  to  put  off  the  marriage. 
Attached  as  she  was  to  Royal,  with  no  idea  of  breaking  her 
engagement  to  him,  she  shrank  from  the  thought  of  merg- 
ing their  pleasant  relation  into  the  closer  one  of  marriage. 

In  November  she  returned  home  with  her  brother,  who 
had  made  his  usual  fall  visit  to  the  city.  It  was  during 
this  trip  that  the  steamboat  accident  took  place,  which 
Judge  Pickenson  had  described  to  Omar  Witchell.  The 
boat,  a  slow  old  craft,  loaded  to  her  guards,  was  mak- 
ing poor  headway  against  the  current.  The  male  passen- 
gers, bored  with  the  confinement  and  the  slow  progress, 
took  to  gambling  and  drinking  by  way  of  diversion.  Hugh 
Vincent  was  drawn  into  both — contrary  to  his  usual  habits. 
He  lost  money  to  a  long-haired,  black-bearded  man,  who 
called  himself  Karles — a  fellow  with  devil-me-care  manners 
— who  played  carelessly  and  seemed  to  be  almost  indiffer- 
ent whether  he  lost  or  won. 

Drinking  and  gaming  were  both  running  pretty  high 
one  night,  when  the  boat  struck  a  snag  that  tore  a  hole  in 
her  rotten  keel .  The  pilot  headed  her  for  the  shore,  but 
the  water  was  pouring  into  her  hold,  and  in  the  excitement 
a  lamp  was  overturned  and  a  portion  of  the  cabin  was  soon 
in  flames.  There  was  a  rush  for  the  two  small  skiffs  be- 
longing to  the  boat,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  they  were 
launched  and  filled  with  passengers.  Karles  was  the  cool- 
est man  on  board,  and  did  good  service  in  getting  the 
women  and  children  first  of  all  into  the  boats.  Vincent 
was  in  the  first  one,  with  his  sister  (as  he  fancied)  by  his 
side.  She  had  been  indisposed,  arfd  had  kept  to  her  state- 
room ever  since  coming  on  board.  When  the  accident  oc- 
curred she  was  sleeping  the  heavy  slumber  that  follows 
upon  the  exhaustion  of  fever.     Her  brother  had  gone  to 


WILD    WORK.  •  191 

arouse  lier  at  the  first  alarm  ;  but  in  the  confusion  of  friglit 
and  the  becloudment  of  liquor  he  had  gone  to  the  wrong 
state-room  and  brought  out  the  wrong  woman,  so  wrapped 
up  that  he  did  not  find  out  his  mistake.  Zoe  did  not  wake 
until  the  last  boat  was  about  pushing  off.  Karles,  the  last 
man  to  leave,  was  stepping  into  it  when  he  heard  a  woman's 
cry,  and,  hurrying  back  into  the  cabin  already  filled  with 
suffocating  smoke,  he  saw  Zoe  standing  in  her  white  wrap- 
per, her  white  face,  surrounded  by  a  mass  of  loosened 
hair,  looming  spirit-like  through  the  glare  and  gloom.  He 
started  in  amazement. 

*^  Miss  Vincent!" 

She  knew  him  in  spite  of  his  disguise  of  darkened  beard 
and  hair.  His  face  glowed  ;  with  his  arm  around  her,  he 
hurried  her  out  of  the  burning  cabin  ;  then  he  ran  back  to 
bring  her  shawl,  and  her  watch  and  purse,  that  she  had  told 
him  were  under  her  pillow.  He  was  gone  only  an  instant, 
but,  when  he  returned,  he  saw  that  those  in  the  skiff  had 
pushed  off.  I^or  would  they  regard  his  command  for  them 
to  come  back.  The  skiff  was  already  too  full,  they  called 
out.  Hirne  looked  at  Zoe,  and  pointed  to  the  shore,  which 
was  quite  near.  The  water  meanwhile  had  filled  the  lower 
part  of  the  boat,  and  the  flames  were  rapidly  spreading. 

"  You  will  not  be  frightened  to  trust  yourself  to  me," 
he  said.  "  Luckily,  you  know  me  to  be  a  good  swimmer, 
else  I  would  still  be  on  the  Tortugas.  There,  that  is 
brave  ! " 

He  easily  swam  with  her  to  the  shore,  but  the  water  was 
cold,  the  night  frosty,  and  Zoe,  not  well  before,  was  seized 
with  a  chill  that  seemed  like  death.  Hirne  worked  as  hard 
as  he  had  ever  done  in  his  life  to  keep  warmth  and  vitality 
in  her  body. 

Brandy  and  vigorous  rubbing  before  a  bright  cypress 
fire  that  had  been  kindled  in  a  wood-cutter's  cabin — the 


192  •  WILD    WORK. 

only  shelter  the  gloomy  swamp  afforded — at  last  restored 
her.  Hirne,  through  the  force  of  his  will  and  his  readiness 
at  resources,  constituted  himself  her  nurse. 

"It  is  only  doing  as  I  was  done  by,  and  not  so  much, 
for  what  comparison  is  there  between  my  clumsy  services 
and  your  gentle  ministration  ?  "  he  said  as  she  sat  before 
the  fire  next  morning,  dressed  in  the  plain,  dark  clothes  of 
a  lady  who  had  saved  her  yalise  in  the  boat. 

The  two  brawny  wood-cutters,  whose  hut  had  given 
shelter  to  the  unfortunates,  were  early  astir,  and,  ransack- 
ing their  small  stores,  got  ready  a  breakfast  of  hot  coffee, 
bread,  bacon,  and.  wild  honey,  of  which  the  hungry  pas- 
sengers of  the  luckless  Alethia  partook  with  zest. 

It  was  noon  before  a  boat  ma(ie  its  appearance  ;  coming 
up  and  being  hailed,  it  rounded  to  and  took  on  board  the 
little  party  standing  forlornly  on  the  bank. 

Vincent  had  lost  but  little  by  the  catastrophe.  His 
freight  had  been  shipped  by  his  merchant  on  another  boat — 
the  same  which  had  now  taken  them  up. 

Hirne  had  learned,  to  his  surprise,  that  the  man  whose 
money  he  had  won  was  Zoe's  brother,  and,  knowing  he 
would  not  accept  it  back  as  a  gift,  he  induced  Vincent  to 
play  with  him  again,  and  permitted  him  to  win  from  him 
more  than  he  had  lost. 

At  the  next  town  where  the  boat  landed  Hirne  went 
ashore  and  came  back  in  a  more  civilized  dress,  with  his  hair 
and  beard  shorn  of  some  of  its  savage  luxuriance.  He  sent 
to  ask  Zoe  if  she  would  see  him,  and,  receiving  her  answer  of 
''  yes,"  he  came  that  evening  into  the  cabin  and  talked  with 
her  in  a  quiet,  dimly-lighted  corner.  Cynical  and  erratic 
as  some  of  his  talk  was,  it  was  undeniably  picturesque  and 
original.  He  was  no  ordinary  man,  Zoe  felt,  and  she  set 
herself  to  persuading  him  to  put  his  good  gifts  to  use,  to 
quit  the  vagabond  life  he  owned  to  leading,  and  come  into 


WILD    WOEK.  193 

the  ranks  of  useful  work  and  social  intercourse.  Half  laugh- 
ing,-he  had  said  to  her  as  Festus  said  to  Paul,  "Almost 
thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian "  ;  then  more  ear- 
nestly, "  Would  you  care  really  to  have  me  become  a  domes- 
tic animal  ?  If — I  thought  that  you —  "  He  broke  off 
short  with  a  quick  gesture  of  self -scorn,  but,  meeting  her 
eye,  he  leaned  suddenly  near  her,  and  said  : 

"When  you  sang  that  little  song  just  now,  I  told  you  it 
was  as  though  you  had  felt  the  passion  with  which  it  was 
charged,  and  I  asked  you  if  this  was  so.  You  made  no 
answer,  yet  my  question  was  not  an  idle  one.  I  had  a  rea- 
son for  asking." 

"And  I  had  none  for  refusing  to  answer,"  Zoe  said, 
while  she  grew  paler  with  her  effort  to  conquer  a  tempta- 
tion. "  I  ought  to  understand  the  feeling  expressed  in  that 
little  song,  since  it  was  given  me  by  the  gentleman  to  whom 
I  am  to  be  married." 

She  did  not,  she  could  not  look  up  to  see  the  effect  of 
her  words.  He  turned  off  from  her  and  walked  away. 
Coming  back  in  a  few  moments,  he  stood  before  her,  looked 
at  her  in  silence,  then  said  abruptly  : 

"I  was  an  idiot  to  dream  it.  I  might  have  known 
there  could  be  no  hope  in  life  ;for  me." 

Touched  by  his  look,  she  said  earnestly:  "Do  not  say 
that ;  there  is  hope  for  you  every  way.  You  will  come  out 
from  under  the  cloud  of  the  past ;  you  will  put  up  the 
sword  of  hate  into  its  scabbard  and  use  the  brighter  weapon 
— mind — to  carve  you  a  worthy  place  in  the  world.  You 
will  love,  marry,  and  be  happy." 

"  He  laughed  scornfully.  "  Marry  !  I  shall  never  do 
that.  I  wish  any  woman  a  better  fate  than  to  marry  me. 
And  as  for  your  civilization,  I'll  have  none  of  its  narrow  laws 
and  hollow  customs  to  fetter  me.  I  shall  go  into  the  wil- 
derness, as  far  from  its  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cym- 


194:  WILD    WOBK. 

bals  as  I  can  get.  When  that  palls,  there's  always  fighting 
somewhere  to  stir  the  blood,  or  to  stop  its  circulation  for 
ever.  I  can  join  the  starved  handful  of  red-skins  that 
stand  at  bay  against  the  trained  West  Pointers.  Their  sav- 
age instinct  of  hate  is  at  least  more  honest  than  most  things 
I  can  find  in  the  world  that  calls  itself  civilized." 

And  with  these  reckless  words  he  turned  away. 

That  night  the  boat  reached  Vincent's  plantation,  and, 
while  he  was  superintending  the  discharge  of  his  freight, 
Hirne  came  to  assist  Zoe  off  the  boat.  He  almost  carried 
her  up  the  steep  bank.  At  the  top,  and  withdrawn  a  lit- 
tle into  the  black  shadow  cast  by  a  pecan  tree,  he  took  her 
hands  in  his,  pressed  them  to  his  lips — and  left  her — not 
having  spoken  a  word. 

She  had  not  seen  nor  heard  from  him  since  that  silent 
parting. 

This  was  the  man  of  whom  she  had  at  last  found 
courage  to  speak  to  Eoyal.  The  impression  he  had  made 
troubled  her ;  she  could  not  throw  it  off.  She  found  it 
hard  to  reason  herself  into  the  belief  that  it  was  a  mere 
fleeting  interest,  bom  of  sympathy  and  imagination.  It 
was  a  relief  to  her  that  Eoyal  thought  it  so.  She  wished 
to  be  faithful  in  heart  as  in  deed  to  her  betrothed.  She 
was  sure  she  loved  him ;  not,  indeed,  with  that  absorbing 
devotion  that  one  reads  and  hears  of,  and  more  rarely  sees, 
but  then  it  was  better  so — better  that  her  regard  was  of  a 
calmer  and  more  practical  sort  than  this  intense  worship 
which,  when  thrown  back  on  itself,  consumes  hope,  energy, 
life  itself,  as  in  the  case  of  Adelle.  Poor  Adelle  !  How 
her  eyes  had  followed  her  to-night  when  she  came  away — 
how  hollow,  how  wistful  they  were  !  **I  must  be  with  her 
more  ;  I  must  go  to  her  to-morrow,"  was  Zoe's  last  thought. 


WILD  WORK,  195 


CHAPTER  XYIII. 

She  went  to  see  her  next  day.  She  was  met  at  the 
door  of  Adelle's  chamber  by  Witchell's  mother,  an  angular, 
grim-looking  personage,  who  resumed  her  knitting  the 
instant  she  sat  down. 

'^What  is  this  Gorgon  doing  here?"  thought  Zoe,  as 
she  looked  at  the  hard  face  and  cold  eyes.  Adelle  was  sit- 
ting up,  but  she  seemed  unfit  to  be  out  of  bed.  As  she 
kissed  her,  Zoe  felt  her  lips  quiver,  and  the  next  instant 
the  poor  girl  had  her  friend  round  the  neck  and  was  crying 
with  suppressed  sobs.  Mrs.  Witchell  looked  up  disapprov- 
ingly. "Adelle  is  very  nervous  to-day,"  she  said.  "If 
she  would  exercise  any  self-control  it  would  be  better  for 
her,  and  pleasanter  for  her  friends.  It  was  a  mistake,  her 
coming  here  in  this  noisy  city ;  with  all  this  excitement 
she  can  not  be  so  quiet  as  she  ought." 

Adelle  dried  her  tears,  and,  bidding  Zoe  sit  by  her, 
made  an  evident  effort  to  talk  about  pleasant  things,  but 
her  thoughts  seemed  to  wander,  and  she  broke  off  her 
sentences  abruptly.  Zoe  glanced  rather  savagely  at  the 
Gorgon.  Did  she  intend  to  sit  by  in  that  stiff,  silent,  yet 
observant  way  all  the  time,  and  exasperate  one  by  knitting 
—knitting  imperturbably  as  did  the  knitters  of  the  Revolu- 
tion while  the  axe  of  death  did  its  work  ?  The  axe  was  at 
work  upon  this  life,  Zoe  felt,  as  she  looked  at  her  friend. 
The  hectic  color  on  her  cheeks  could  not  hide  how  they 
were  wasted.  Her  respiration  came  in  labored  breaths 
through  her  parted,  feverishly-red  lips,  and  Zoe's  eyes  de- 
tected the  blood-stains  on  a  handkerchief  that  had  been 
thrust  half  under  the  sofa  cushion  to  hide  it.  She  looked 
wistfully  at  her  friend,  as  if  her  heart  were  full  of  some 
grief  she  could  hardly  keep  back.     At  last,  to  Zoe's  re- 


196  WILD   WORK. 

lief,  the  old  lady  went  out  of  the  room  to  interview  the 
man  who  had  brought  the  coal,  and  tell  him  what  she 
thought  of  his  high  charges.  Then  Adelle,  stretching  out 
her  arms  to  her  cousin,  said  : 

'^  0  Zoe  !  he  is  going  to  send  me  away  from  him.  His 
mother  is  to  take  me  away  with  her.  This  is  why  he  has 
sent  for  her.  I  know  it ;  I  heard  them  talking  together. 
She  says  I  am  in  Marshall's  way  ;  that  he  can  not  attend 
to  his  affairs  here,  I  weary  and  trouble  him  so.  0  Zoe ! 
won't  you  tell  him  you  think  I  am  better  ;  that  I  will  not 
trouble  him — no,  not  one  bit  ?  That  I  will  not  fret  any 
more  about  his  going  out  to  night  committees  ?  I  will  be 
satisfied  only  to  know  he  is  near  me,  that  I  can  see  him, 
and  he  will  speak  to  me  sometimes.  But  up  there — away 
from  him— at  that  lonesome  place  !  Oh  Zoe  !  I  should  die. 
His  mother  does  not  like  me.  She  is  kind,  but  it  is  in  such 
a  way.  She  looks  at  me  as  if  she  thought  I  was  a  spoiled 
child,  and  my  sickness  was  only  pretense.  Then,  not  to 
see  him — when  it  is  my  only  happiness  !  He  is  my  life — 
my  all." 

A  fit  of  coughing  cut  short  the  panting  whisper.  When 
it  ended  there  was  blood  on  the  fresh  white  handker- 
chief. 

"That  is  nothing,"  she  said,  as  Zoe,  who  stood  over 
her,  with  her  friend's  head  leaning  against  her,  took  up 
the  handkerchief  and  looked  at  it  sadly.  *'I  have  been 
having  these  little  haemorrhages  a  long  time.  Give  me 
that  glass  of  salt  and  lemon  juice  ;  that  will  stop  it ;  I  am 
stronger  than  you  think.  I  am  determined  to  do  without 
any  more  nursing.  I  am  going  to  go  out  every  day,  and 
you  must  go  with  me.  Velvine  is  altering  my  blue  silk.  It 
has  got  too  large  for  me  ;  I  always  do  lose  flesh  in  the  win- 
ter. Zoe,  you  must  stay  to  dinner.  You  will  see  Marshall, 
and  tell  him  you  think  I  am  improving,  and  that  the  city 


WILD   WORK.  197 

agrees  with  me.  Hush !  there  comes  mother  Witchell. 
Hide  that  handkerchief,  please." 

She  insisted  on  dressing  for  dinner,  though  she  could 
hardly  stand  the  fatigue  of  the  operation.  The  feyer  flush 
was  fading,  and  she  bade  Zoe  put  rouge  on  her  cheeks,  and 
arrange  her  hair  so  that  it  should  hide  the  sunken  temples. 
Zoe,  who  was  clasping  her  bracelet,  noticed  how  she  trem- 
bled when  she  heard  Witchell's  step  in  the  hall.  The  next 
moment  he  came  in,  greeted  Zoe  with  his  usual  courtesy, 
spoke  to  his  wife,  and,  tossing  off  his  hat,  ran  his  fingers 
wearily  through  his  hair.  Adelle  went  up  to  him  and  put 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  looked  up  at  him,  smiling. 

*^  Don't  you  see  how  well  I  am  ?  "  she  said. 

He  looked  down  into  her  face,  sweet  still  as  a  faded 
rose.  He  passed  his  hand  caressingly  oyer  her  hair,  and 
kissed  her  with  more  than  usual  tenderness.  In  spite  of 
her  efforts,  tears  rushed  into  her  eyes.  He  frowned  with  an 
annoyed  expression. 

^' You  are  such  a  child,"  he  said  ;  "do  try  to  haye  more 
self-control,  Adelle." 

During  dinner  she  exerted  herself  to  seem  gay  and  well. 
Zoe  saw  how  she  struggled  against  languor  and  pain,  and 
was  not  surprised  to  see  her,  after  their  return  to  the  sit- 
ting-room, suddenly  turn  white,  and  lie  back  neryeless 
against  the  chair.  No  one  saw  it  but  Zoe,  and,  rising  quick- 
ly, she  said  : 

*'Dell,  don't  you  need  a  little  rest  now  ?  I  haye  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  in  priyate.     Come." 

She  put  her  arm  around  her  as  if  playfully,  and  half 
supported  her  into  her  bedroom,  and  made  her  lie  down. 

''Not  a  word  from  you,"  she  said,  placing  her  hand 
oyer  the  languid  eyes.     "  Sleep  now,  or  at  least  be  quiet." 

She  sat  by  her  awhile,  and,  leaying  her  resting  if  not 
asleep,  returned  to  the  sitting-room.     Witchell  was  speak- 


198  WILD    WORK. 

ing  to  his  mother  as  he  walked  back  and  forth  in  the  room. 
She  heard  him  say  : 

"Yes,  I  have  decided  upon  it.  It's  best  for  her  and 
for  me.  I  ought  to  be  free  to  give  all  my  attention  to  the 
work  I  have  here." 

Seeing  Zoe,  he  said  : 

**  Is  Adelle  asleep  so  soon  ?  I  think  of  sending  her 
home  with  my  mother,  Miss  Zoe.  She  will  be  so  much 
quieter  there." 

*'  Will  you  go  with  her,  sir  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  leave." 

'*  Then  do  not  send  her  away  from  you.  It  will  be  bad 
for  her.  It  will — let  me  speak  plainly — it  will  shorten  her 
life." 

"  How  absurd  ! "  spoke  up  Mrs.  "Witchell,  quickly. 
"As  if  Adelle  were  really  in  any  danger.  Half  of  her 
sickness  is  nervous  irritation  and  low  spirits.  Miss  Vin- 
cent, you  ought  not  to  humor  your  friend's  childish 
whims.  She  will  be  much  better  on  the  plantation,  where 
there  is  nothing  to  excite  her.  She  can  have  a  good  physi- 
cian at  hand,  and  my  own  attention.  Then  my  son  is  to 
be  considered.  He  has  business  it  will  not  do  for  him  to 
neglect ;  a  sick  wife  claims  his  time,  and  is  a  bui'den  on  his 
mind." 

"Let  us  think  of  her  first,"  said  Witchell,  and  he  no 
doubt  thought  he  was  speaking  from  his  heart.  "I  am 
sure  the  change  will  be  to  her  advantage." 

"  It  will  kill  her,"  Zoe  burst  out  impetuously.  Then, 
fearing  she  would  injure  her  friend's  cause  by  saying  too 
much,  she  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

Next  morning  slio  had  visitors,  and  could  only  send  a 
note  to  Adelle.  A  message  was  returned  tliat  her  cousin 
was  "as  well  as  usual."  Rather  late  in  the  afternoon  she 
went  to  see  her,  and  was  surprised  to  find  the  doors  of  her 


WILD    WORK.  199 

apartments  fastened,  and  seemingly  no  one  inside.  Turn- 
ing away,  she  met  the  mistress  of  the  boarding-house  and 
learned  from  her  that  Adelle  was  gone.  She  had  left  on 
the  five  o'clock  boat  with  Witchell's  mother. 

"  Gone,  and  she  was  so  opposed  to  leaving  !  Did  she 
seem  very  unwilling,  Mrs.  Rose  ?  " 

**Poor  dear,  she  didn't  seem  to  be  more  than  half  con- 
scious of  what  was  being  done  to  her.  Mrs.  Witchell  told 
me  herself  they  had  given  her  a  quantity  of  morphine  to 
quiet  her.  She  looked  quite  dazed-like  when  they  brought 
her  down ;  not  much  more  life  in  her  than  in  a  corpse. 
And  the  driver  tells  me  they  took  her  on  the  boat  the  same 
way.  Captain  Witchell  knows  best,  of  course.  But,  if  it 
had  been  me,  I  could  never  have  sent  her  off  that  way  ;  I'd 
been  afraid  I'd  never  see  her  again  ;  and  she  loves  him  so, 
poor  child." 

"  He's  a  cold-hearted  wretch,"  cried  the  impulsive  Zoe. 

''  I  think  you  are  unjust,  miss.  He  thinks  it's  best  for 
her.  He  looked  sorry,  but  determined.  I  saw  him  hold- 
ing her  in  his  arms  in  the  carriage.  He  looked  at  her  ten- 
der-like, but  his  mouth  was  shut  together  in  the  way  he 
has.     He  seemed  to  be  doing  something  against  his  heart." 

It  was  true.  The  man  had  had  a  struggle  with  him- 
self. Greed  of  money  and  power  had  taken  possession  of 
him.  He  felt  he  could  gain  a  point  by  having  all  his  facul- 
ties free  to  work  to  his  ends  in  these  last  days  of  the  legisla- 
tive session,  and  he  determined  to  remove  the  obstacle  that 
his  sick,  clinging  wife,  with  her  exactions  on  his  time  and 
attention,  presented.  He  had  quieted  his  conscience  by 
assuring  himself  that  his  wife  was  not  dangerously  ill,  and 
that  she  would  be  better  out  of  the  city  ;  but,  when  he  car- 
ried her  into  her  state-room,  and,  shutting  the  door  behind, 
stood  looking  at  her  as  she  lay,  so  pitiful  in  her  youth,  her 
faded  loveliness,  her  death-like  whiteness,  the  battle  in  his 


200  WJ^D   WORK, 

heart  had  to  be  fought  over  again.  She  was  only  half  con- 
scious of  what  was  going  on,  so  powerful  had  been  the 
quieting  potion  given  her.  She  hardly  knew  she  was  go- 
ing anywhere,  and  she  had  no  idea  she  was  leaving  her 
husband.  She  was  soothingly  conscious  of  his  presence  ; 
her  eyes  had  opened  and  lighted  on  seeing  him  bending 
over  her.  She  stretched  out  her  arms  and  clasped  his  neck, 
lie  feared  she  had  roused  to  a  sense  of  what  was  going  to 
be,  but  she  only  whispered,  *'  You  wouldn't  send  me  away 
without  you,  would  you,  dear  Marshall  ?  "  He  spoke  sooth- 
ingly to  her,  and  presently  she  drifted  away  into  sleep. 
The  boat-bell  rang;  he  gently  undid  the  wasted  arms, 
kissed  her  softly,  and  crept  out,  with  a  guilty  feeling  at 
his  heart. 

He  never  saw  her  living  face  again.  When  she  recov- 
ered from  the  effects  of  the  opiate,  and  knew  that  she  had 
been  betrayed,  that  her  husband  had  sent  her  away  from 
him — to  die,  as  she  bitterly  said  to  her  heart — she  sank 
into  a  listless,  hopeless  state.  She  never  complained,  she 
never  spoke  about  her  husband ;  she  seemed  to  be  con- 
vinced at  last  that  she  filled  but  a  small  part  of  his  life, 
and  she  strove  to  put  the  thought  of  him  away  from  her. 
She  grew  weaker  daily,  and  still  her  strong,  stirring  moth- 
er-in-law, who  nursed  her  energetically,  but  with  a  lack  of 
that  tender,  forbearing  sympathy  that  only  comes  from 
love,  refused  to  believe  she  was  ill  unto  death,  and  insisted 
she  would  grow  strong  if  only  she  would  eat  more  and  try 
to  brighten  up. 

Omar  was  away  upon  business,  else  his  affectionate  at- 
tention would  have  soothed  that  sad  pillow,  and  he  would 
not  have  been  prevented  from  sending  at  once  for  his 
brother. 

One  morning  Mrs.  Witchell  came  into  Adelle's  room, 
and  as  she  stopped  by  the  bed  the  girl  laid  her  white  ghost 


WILD    WOEK.  201 

of  a  hand  upon  her  mother-in-law's,  and,  looking  up  at  her 
with  her  hollow  eyes,  said  : 

*^  Won't  you  send  for  mother  ?  I  want  to  see  her  before 
I  die." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  the  old  lady  said;  "you  are 
not  going  to  die,  child.     You  will  soon  be  getting  strong." 

Nevertheless,  she  shuddered  ;  that  yoice  and  look  went 
through  her  with  strong  conyiction.  She  read  death  in 
those  eyes.  She  went  straight  and  wrote  a  letter  to  her 
son,  telling  him  to  hasten  home,  and  dispatched  it  on  a 
boat  that  passed  down  that  morning.  There  was  no  tele- 
graph line,  and  it  would  take  two  days  for  the  letter  to 
reach  its  destination.  She  also  sent  at  once  for  the  mother 
of  Adelle,  even  permitting  the  messenger  to  take  the  poor 
half  legible  line  the  dying  girl  had  traced  as  she  lay  on  the 
pillow. 

"  Mother,  father,  you  must  forgive  me  now— for  I  am 
dying.     Come  to  me.  Adelle." 

Colonel  Holman  was  not  at  home  when  the  messenger 
arrived.  His  wife  did  not  wait  for  him  ;  she  came  at  once, 
trembling,  weeping,  praying  it  might  not  be  so  ill  with  the 
daughter  whom  she  had  not  ceased  to  love  and  yearn  over, 
though  kept  away  from  her  by  the  stern  will  of  her  hus- 
band. 

When  she  entered  the  room,  turned  to  the  bed  and  saw 
there  the  wan  wreck  of  her  beautiful  child,  she  dropped  on 
her  knees  as  if  pierced  to  the  heart.  Her  bitter  self-re- 
proaches, sobbed  out  with  her  gray  head  bowed  on  her 
daughter's  hands,  were  heart-rending  to  hear. 

She  never  left  Adelle's  bedside  any  more.  When,  five 
days  afterward,  at  the  fading  of  a  peaceful  sunset,  the 
young  life  passed  away,  father,  mother,  and  brother  were 
around  her  bed,  holding  her  hands,  watching  with  strained 


202  WILD   WORK. 

looks  of  mute  agony  the  faint  smile  of  love  that  shone  on 
them  to  the  last. 

She  had  watched  the  door  ceaselessly  that  morning,  and 
they  knew  she  hoped  to  see  her  husband  enter  ;  but  after 
awhile  she  sighed  deeply  and  turned  away  her  head,  resign- 
ing the  last  hope  that  had  power  to  agitate  her.  She  had 
only  spoken  of  him  once.  In  the  middle  of  the  last  night 
of  her  life  she  woke  suddenly  from  a  disturbed  sleep  with 
a  faint  scream.  As  her  mother  leaned  over  her  she  drew 
her  close  to  her  and  whispered  : 

"I  had  a  fearful  dream.  I  saw  Marshall  swimming  in 
a  bloody  sea,  with  a  bloody  mist  above  and  around  him. 
All  at  once,  as  he  swam,  both  his  arms  dropped  away,  and 
the  cloud  shut  him  from  me.  It  was  terrible  !  And  once 
— before  he  married  me — an  old  negro — old  Margaret  Sted- 
man — dreamed  the  same  thing,  and  told  it  to  me.  Is  it 
not  strange  ?  " 

"You  remembered  it,  child — and  it  came  to  you  in 
your  sleep.     Dreams  are  idle  things." 

"  Old  Margaret  said  this  meant  evil  to  him.  God 
protect  him  from  danger !  Margaret  told  me  things 
that  came  true.  She  said  that  I  would  only  be  a  clog 
to  him,  and  he  would  tear  away  from  me  at  last.  That 
has  proved  true — yet  I  loved  him.  I  love  him  still.  I 
am  glad,  though,  that  he  will  be  free.  I  know  I  was  only, 
a  hindrance." 

While  the  body  of  what  had  been  beautiful  Adelle  IIol- 
man  lay  dressed  for  burial  in  white  robes  with  white  flow- 
ers on  her  breast,  the  keen  whistle  of  a  steamboat  at  "Star- 
light Landing  "  told  that  he  whom  she  had  so  mutely  longed 
to  see  had  come — too  late.  He  leaped  from  the  boat  and 
hurried  into  the  house  ;  went  past  every  one  without  speak- 
ing, and  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  dead  woman,  who  had 
loved  him  so  well.     Stood  looking  at  her  with  arms  locked 


WILD    WORK.  203 

tightly  over  liis  chest,  and  a  tumult  working  on  his  brow ; 
then  knelt  and  buried  his  head  in  her  cold  bosom,  while  a 
storm  of  remorseful  agony  shook  his  frame. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

A  HALF-MOOK  hung  in  the  sky.  The  summer  air  was  full 
of  the  scent  of  night-j  essamine  and  oleander.  The  little  town 
of  Cohatchie  seemed  asleep,  for  few  lights  gleamed  from  its 
scattered  houses,  and  in  a  grove  not  far  from  Colonel  Alver's 
pretty  home  a  whippoorwill  thrilled  the  silence  with  its  cry. 
The  still  sweetness  of  the  night  wrought  even  on  the  rest- 
less pulses  of  Floyd  Reese,  and  her  step  became  slower  as 
she  paced  the  walks  in  the  rear  yard,  with  the  perfume  of 
flowers  coming  to  her,  and  the  shadows  of  the  shrubbery 
falling  now  and  then  over  her  figure,  clad  in  thin,  dark 
gauze,  with  a  black  lace  mantle  over  her  head,  through 
which  gleamed  her  fair  brow  and  throat  and  her  wonderful 
bright  eyes,  whenever  she  passed  into  the  moonlight. 

No  one  was  astir  in  the  house,  and  the  lights  were  out, 
except  the  lamp  that  twinkled  in  her  own  room.  Mrs. 
Alver,  whose  health  was  delicate,  had  gone  to  bed  at  the 
persuasion  of  Floyd,  who  had  made  her  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
insisted  on  her  drinking  it  and  lying  down. 

'^  Colonel  Alver  will  not  come  home  until  late,"  she 
said.  ''I  heard  him  tell  you  so.  I  will  wake  Rose  and 
send  her  to  open  the  door  for  him,  or  I  will  open  it  myself. 
I  shall  sit  up  late  writing." 

The  step  of  a  horse  approaching  in  a  quiet  walk  was 
heard,  and  Floyd  stopped  by  a  summer-house,  overhung 
with  multiflora  vines,  and  stood  just  within  one  of  its 
green-arched  doorways.      The  horseman  stopped  at  the 


204  WILD    WORK. 

stable,  dismounted,  led  in  his  liorse,  and,  emerging,  locked 
the  door  behind  him,  opened  a  gate  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
back  yard  and  came  up  through  tlie  shrubbery.  He  stopped 
by  the  summer-house  where  Floyd  waited. 

'^I  am  here,"  she  said  softly  from  the  shadow.  "You 
are  late." 

**  Yes,  it  was  nine  before  the  meeting  broke  up,  and  the 
road  over  the  hills  is  terribly  rough." 

*' What  success  ?" 

*'  As  good  as  I  could  hope  for.  The  meeting  was  largely 
attended,  but  many  are  holding  back.  Slaves  !  Witchell 
has  bought  them  with  a  few  bushels  of  corn  and  a  little 
meat,  or  else  empty  promises." 

'^Did  you  address  the  meeting  ?" 

*'I  spoke  again  and  again,  was  called  for  with  enthusi- 
asm. They  seemed  fired  up  to  any  point  I  could  wish. 
There  is  certainly  a  wonderful  change  in  the  last  few  months. 
The  people  are  shaking  off  their  paralysis.  Hopeless  sub- 
missiveness  is  gone.  They  begin  to  believe  that  "Witchell 
is  not  necessarily  their  destiny,  and  they  his  slaves.  At  least 
a  majority  feel  this  way,  and  are  ready  to  band  together  to 
resist  the  Radical  clique,  but  the  poorer  class  on  the  Hills 
belong  to  Witchell,  body  and  soul,  and  these,  with  the  ne- 
groes, will  beat  us  at  the  polls,  even  if  the  voting  is  fair, 
which  it  will  not  be.  Yent  pretends  he  is  bringing  the 
negroes  over,  but  I  see  little  sign  of  it.  He  never  tried  to 
do  it  before  Witchell  dismissed  him  from  his  office  of  sheriff, 
and  now  he  can  not.  Curse  and  expose  Witchell  as  he  does 
with  all  his  wordy  fury,  he  can  no  longer  lead  the  negroes. 
He  has  lost  his  prestige  of  office.  They  look  on  him  with 
suspicion.  They  are  shrewd  enough  to  suspect  that  all  his 
denouncing  of  the  Radicals  is  mere  spite. " 

*^  Still  you  may  use  him  other  ways.  He  is  a  slippery 
tool,  and  requires  that  you  keep  your  hand  firmly  upon 


WILD    WORK.  205 

him.  Did  you  urge  the  measure  you  promised  to  propose  ? 
The  time  is  ripe  for  it.  The  Radical  Convention  is  close  at 
hand." 

**  The  time  is  ripe  for  it,  and  I  did  propose  the  measure. 
I  brought  it  out  in  artful  climax.  After  I  had  shown  how 
we  were  tied  hand  and  foot  by  tyrannical  laws  enforced  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet,  how  we  were  made  to  accept  the 
rule  of  corrupt  men,  who  insulted  and  robbed  us,  I  asked 
what  should  be  done  ?  The  laws,  the  Government,  gave  us 
no  redress  ;  should  we  not  rise  up  as  a  body,  and  shake  our- 
selves free  from  this  incubus  ?  Should  we  not  force  these 
men  to  resign,  even  at  the  muzzle  of  the  shot-gun  ?  " 

*^  And  how  did  they  receive  this  ?" 

*^They  responded  warmly,  but  I  am  afraid  of  their 
timidity  when  the  time  comes  to  act.  If  the  movement 
could  be  unanimous,  I  would  not  fear,  but  Witchell  has  too 
many  friends  here  and  in  other  parishes  as  well.     When  I 

spoke  to  the  White  League  in  N last  week,  and  proposed 

that  that  parish  should  force  its  scoundrelly  officers  to  re- 
sign, there  was  vehement  approval,  and  a  resolution  passed 
that  the  measure  should  be  put  in  force.  I  believe  that  it 
will  be.  The  Radical  officers  in  that  parish  are  not  the 
chosen  of  Witchell — ^the  friends  and  the  kin  of  this  man — 
curse  him  ! — who  has  such  a  devil's  power  of  blinding  igno- 
rant people  that  he  can  make  them  believe  his  black  record 
is  as  white  as  snow.  But  will  they  oust  him  from  office  ? 
Will  our  own  parish  dare  to  rid  itself  of  the  men — ^his  tools 
and  his  blood — that  he  has  fastened  upon  it  ?  " 

**  It  will ;  it  must.  It  must  force  them  to  resign  before 
a  month  is  over.     Your  White  League  must  be  kept  full 

strung.    There  must  be  no  let  down.  If  N thrusts  out  its 

officers,  that  will  give  our  parish  courage.  You  have  worked 
well,  you  have  gained  much  ground  ;  it  is  too  late  to  give 
up  now.     You  must  fight  it  out.      These  men  must  be 


206  WILD   WORE. 

rooted  out,  even  if  they  have  to  be  destroyed.  If  they  were 
made  away  with,  you  would  have  nothing  to  fear  ;  no  other 
Kadical  set  would  dare  to  live  and  rule  here.  No  other 
Kadical  leader  can  ever  take  the  hold  upon  the  people  that 
Witchell  has.  Destroy  them — it  will  be  a  just  deed — and 
leave  the  way  clear  for  better  men." 

Four  months  ago  this  suggestion  had  horrified  him.  It 
did  not  do  so  now,  so  morally  undermining  had  been  the 
gradual  subtile  influence  of  this  woman.  And  he  now  felt 
the  excitement  of  one  who  engages  in  a  game  or  a  combat. 
He  only  said  : 

*'  To  destroy  them  would  be  to  ruin  our  cause.  Ifc  would 
be  to  rot  in  prison." 

**Not  if  they  seemed  to  bring  their  destruction  upon 
themselves.  The  people  are  fully  charged  with  indigna- 
tion ;  it  needs  but  a  spark  of  aggression  on  the  Eadical  part 
to  make  it  take  fire.  The  end  would  justify  a  little  irregu- 
larity in  the  means — would  it  not  ?  " 

"  In  Witchell's  case,  yes.  I  am  sorry  for  the  others — for 
one  or  two  of  them,  at  least.     I  think  they  are  innocent. " 

*^ Innocent!  when  they  work  into  Witchell's  hands? 
Wlien  they  are  his  tools,  his  confidants  ?  " 

''His  tools  they  may  be,  but  hardly  his  confidants. 
That  brother  of  his  has  not  worldly  sense  enough  for  a 
shrewd  man  to  confide  in.  He  seems  a  gentle-hearted 
young  fellow.  I  saw  his  bride  for  the  first  time  yesterday. 
They  were  standing  in  the  gallery  of  their  little  home, 
feeding  some  tame  mocking  birds.  She  is  a  small,  demure- 
looking  creature,  and  looked  up  in  his  face,  as  I  passed, 
with  innocent  adoration.  Devene,  too,  is  going  to  marry  ; 
a  Southern  girl  who  befriended  him  at  Morefield,  where  he 
had  gone  to  collect  Witchell's  swindling  taxes.  It  would 
be  a  pity  for  these  young  creatures  to  be  waked  out  of  their 
happy  honeymoon  by  a  storm  of  ruin — perhaps  blood — in 


WILD    WORK.  207 

which  the  innocent  would  su5er  with  the  guilty.  No,  that 
must  not  be.  Eeform  must  stop  short  of  blood,  or  I  will 
draw  out  of  this  movement. " 

**You  can  not.  You  are  pledged  to  the  movement. 
You  have  set  it  going.  It  must  acliieve  its  mission.  It 
carries  all  your  hopes — remember  that  before  you  let  your 
weakness  get  the  better  of  you.  What  if  these  men  suffer 
ruin  ?  They  have  ruined  hundreds.  "What  would  even 
their  death  be  ?  A  small  sacrifice  to  freedom.  No  great 
wrong  can  be  righted  without  some  sacrifice.  You  must 
not  think  of  the  sacrifice.  It  is  your  duty  to  look  only  to 
the  purpose  you  have  in  view — to  keep  eye  and  aim  for  that. 
Not  to  mind  what  worms  you  may  crush." 

The  moonlight,  by  some  weird  quality  of  its  own,  brings 
out  the  evil  in  a  face  better  than  the  less  subtile  daylight. 
A  ray,  glancing  through  the  vine-leaves,  fell*  across  Floyd's 
face,  and  he  thought  how  hard  and  cruel  it  looked.  He 
turned  from  her. 

"You  are  no  woman  ;  you  have  no  heart,"  he  said. 

"  No  heart !  You  say  this  to  me — you  for  whose  sake  I 
have  steeled  my  heart  and  merged  every  feeling  into  sym- 
pathy with  your  interests  ?  " 

There  was  no  hardness  now  in  her  melting  glance. 

"  Yes,  you  who  despise  me  as  weak  because  this  soft 
night,  the  scent  of  flowers  in  your  hair,  the  sweeter  perfume 
of  your  breath,  your  warm,  beautiful  presence  close  to  me 
here,  soften  my  heart — make  me  feel  a  moment's  sympa- 
thy for  the  young  loving  pairs  that  may  soon  taste  misery 
and  ruin." 

"  Then  it  is  only  a  momentary  weakness.  You  have  no 
thought  of  giving  up  your  purpose  ?  " 

"  I  have  not.  It  is  now  knit  into  my  very  life.  All  my 
hopes  are  staked  upon  it,  even  that  of  love.  If  I  lose,  I 
know  you  will  despise  me  !    If  I  win — but  you  have  never 


208  WILD    WOEK. 

yet  given  me  a  promise— neyer  one  womanly  token  of  affec- 
tion— not  one  touch  of  that  ripe  mouth,  not  one  throb  of 
that  white  breast  against  mine — nothing." 

**  But  I  will,"  she  whispered,  shrinking  back  from  his 
arms,  and  catching  his  hand  firmly  in  hers.  "Have  I  not 
promised  ?  This  is  no  time  for  love  dalliance ;  but  when 
the  fight  is  won — when  the  parish  is  free  from  its  tyrants — 
when  Witchell  is  hurled  from  his  seat  in  the  Assembly,  when 
Alver  is  placed  upon  it— -Alver,  whose  genius  and  force  of 
will  shall  make  him  the  political  power  of  the  State — then 
all  the  kisses  of  these  lips,  all  the  throbs  of  this  heart,  shall 
be  too  poor  to  thank  him  for  having  been  so  true  to  him- 
self, so  brave,  so  deserving  the  worship  of  a  proud  woman." 

His  eye,  ordinarily  so  cold,  glowed  with  blue  fire  under 
his  light  lashes. 

"  Meantime  ?  "  he  said,  drawing  her  to  him. 

She  did  not  struggle  ;  she  fixed  her  eyes  steadily  upon 
him. 

"Meantime,  he  will  forbear  caresses  and  give  his  mind 
to  the  work  in  hand.  Listen,"  she  went  on,  stepping  back 
from  him.  "  The  Eadical  Nominating  Convention  meets 
in  two  weeks.  It  is  time  to  take  some  decisive  step.  What 
do  you  mean  to  do  ?  " 

"  Call  on  our  parish  officers  to  resign.  Demand  Wit- 
chell's  resignation  through  committees  from  the  different 
parishes  he  represents." 

"  And  if  he  refuses  ?  " 

"  Press  it  upon  him  ;  threaten  him." 

"  And  if  he  still  refuses  ?  " 

"We  have  gone  no  farther  in  our  programme." 

"But  I  have,"  she  whispered.  "Listen — "  the  sound 
of  a  clock  striking  one — always  a  solemn  sound — made  her 
start. 

"Not  to-night,"  she  said,  hurriedly.     "It  is  too  late  ; 


WILD    WORK.  209 

I  must  go  in.  I  will  go  first ;  after  a  few  moments  you 
can  knock,  and  I  will  open  the  door." 

She  glided  up  the  shadowed  walk  in  her  dark  dress,  en- 
tered the  back  door,  which  she  had  left  slightly  ajar,  and 
went  noiselessly  up  stairs  to  her  room.  She  went  down 
again  presently,  taking  the  lamp  with  her,  to  answer  Al- 
ver's  knock. 

"What  frauds  we  are  !"  she  whispered,  laughing  as  he 
came  in  and  took  the  lamp  from  her  hand.  Then  aloud  : 
"  Be  as  quiet  as  you  can.  Colonel ;  Mrs.  Alver  has  head- 
ache." 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

It  was  a  chill,  rainy  night.  Judge  Pickenson  sat  late 
by  his  wood-fire,  comfortable,  though  it  was  midsummer. 
He  could  not  sleep  ;  he  was  troubled  with  conjectures  and 
misgivings.     To-day  the  Convention  for  nominating  Eadi- 

cal  officers  had  opened  its  session  at  N .     There  were 

rumors  that  it  would  not  be  allowed  to  sit.  It  was  known 
that  Witchell  was  almost  sure  to  be  renominated,  and  there 
was  a  growing  disaffection  toward  Witchell.  He  had  re- 
ceived two  anonymous  warnings  that  a  plot  was  on  foot  to 
procure  his  downfall ;  that  a  trap  was  to  be  sprung  on  the 
members  of  the  Convention,  and  the  Eadical  officers  re- 
quired to  resign  their  offices  or  give  up  their  lives.  He 
made  light  of  the  warning  and  rode  off  to  attend  the  Con- 
vention, unarmed,  as  was  his  wont,  soundly  rating  the  posse 
of  negroes  he  found  waiting  -to  escort  him.  He  dismissed 
them,  saying  that  he  feared  no  danger  and  wanted  no 
guard. 

Judge  Pickenson  had  not  attended  the   Convention. 


210  yi'ILI>    WORE. 

He  had  determined  to  withdraw  from  politics.  It  had  be- 
come too  turbulent  to  suit  his  easy-going  nature.  And  he 
saw  more  serious  trouble  brewing.  He  mixed  too  inti- 
mately with  the  people  not  to  be  aware  that  a  secret  fire 
had  been  kindled  within  them,  and  that  it  grew  more  in- 
tense every  day.     He  feared  it  would  soon  find  vent. 

He  had  heard  no  news  from  the  Convention  ;  all  through 
the  day  a  feeling  of  feverish  expectancy  had  possessed  him. 
It  was  still  in  his  veins ;  he  sat  listening  to  every  sound. 
Presently  his  ear  caught  the  thud  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the 
sodden  ground.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  caught  up  the  lamp 
and  opened  the  door  wide  that  the  light  might  stream  out 
into  the  darkness.  The  gleam  showed  two  tall,  dark  figures 
coming  toward  the  house.  As  they  entered,  Pickenson  saw 
that  they  were  Witchell  and  the  elder  Devene — the  legis- 
lator— Witchell's  most  intimate  friend.  He  received  them 
cordially,  and  threw  a  fresh  pine-knot  on  the  fire  to  give 
them  a  welcoming  blaze.  He  scanned  their  faces  with  his 
keen,  rapid  glance,  to  see  if  anything  had  gone  wrong. 
They  might  not  choose  to  confide  in  him  now  that  he  had 
drawn  out  from  among  them.  Witchell's  countenance  was 
pale  and  stern;  Devene  laughed — a  laugh  more  reckless 
than  mirthful — as  he  threw  off  his  wet  cloak  and  drank 
down  the  whisky  his  host  had  set  before  hin.  Witchell 
had  declined  the  liquor,  and,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair, 
gazed  moodily  into  the  fire. 

' '  Something  has  happened, "  the  Judge  said  at  last.  ' '  Is 
the  Convention  broken  up  ?  " 

"No,"  Witchell  answered,  "but  the  members  have 
taken  it  into  their  heads  that  it  will  be  broken  up  ;  that  a 
trap  is  to  be  sprung,  of  which  I  am  the  object.  Such  non- 
sense !  But  nothing  would  do  them  but  I  must  leave. 
They  put  the  demand  on  the  ground  of  their  own  safety. 
They  think  it  is  endangered  by  my  staying." 


WILD    WORK.  211 

'*But  you — you  think  there  is  no  ground  for  their 
fears?" 

'*  There  may  be  a  crude  plot  hatched  by  a  handful  of 
reckless  agitators,  stirred  up  by  Yent,  who  is  smarting  at 
having  been  turned  out  of  office.  It  is  merely  a  local  ebul- 
lition— a  bluff  game  to  try  and  scare  out  the  Convention. 
That  is  the  extent  of  the  movement." 

Pickenson  sat  silent,  his  mouth  gravely  compressed. 
Witchell  eyed  him  with  knitted  brows. 

**  Do  you  not  think  with  me  ?"  he  asked. 

A  slight  shake  of  the  head  was  the  only  response. 

"  Look  here,  Pickenson  ;  speak  out  plainly.  What  do 
you  think  this  movement  means?  I  want  a  straightfor- 
ward answer." 

*^  You  shall  have  one  then,  though  you  will  not  thank 
me  for  it.  Nor  will  you  believe  it.  The  movement  means 
more  than  a  mere  ebullition  of  personal  hate.  It  is  an  ex- 
tended movement — a  part  of  the  wave  that  is  beginning  to 
be  felt  throughout  the  South.  It  means  that  the  people 
are  worn  out  with  being  saddled  by  tyrannical,  dishonest, 
or  ignorant  rulers.  They  have  waited  and  forborne,  hoping 
in  vain  for  a  change  ;  now  they  are  gathering  determination 
for  an  active  protest.  A  revolutionary  tide  has  set  in. 
Many  who  have  given  offense  will  find  themselves  stranded 
high  and  dry  ;  others,  who  are  innocent,  will  suffer,  like  the 
Tray  of  our  spelling-books,  for  being  in  bad  company. 
That  touches  you,  my  friend.  Mind,  though,  I  do  not  say 
that  you  are  an  altogether  blameless  Tray." 

*' Speak  out  your  meaning,  sir.  This  is  no  time  for 
jesting." 

'*  It  is  not.     I  will  speak  in  sober  sadness.     For  years 

you  have  held  the  destiny  of  this  section  in  your  hands. 

You  started  out  fairly  in  your  administration,  but  the 

doors  of  opportunity  have  been  thrown  too  temptingly 

10 


212  WILD    WORK. 

wide.  Greed  of  rule  and  money  lias  grown  upon  you. 
You  have  turned  this  parish,  if  not  the  whole  district,  into 
an  autocracy,  governed  by  your  will  alone.  The  officers 
under  you  are  merely  your  agents.  They  carry  out  your 
individual  will.  You  have  enriched  yourself  by  means 
that,  if  legal,  are  not  fair,  as  fairness  is  regarded  by  honor- 
able men." 

"Do  you  dare  tell  me  this  ?" 

**  I  do  ;  because  it  is  true,  and  because  your  conscience 
has  told  it  you  before.  I  tell  you  in  all  sadness,  for  I  feel 
that  you  have  thrown  away  a  rare  opportunity.  You  might 
have  made  yourself  the  head  and  heart  of  this  people. 
You  had  done  them  many  good  turns ;  you  possessed  a 
genius  for  governing  which  they  were  quick  to  recognize  ; 
you  had  personal  magnetism ;  you  could  have  lived  down 
prejudice  and  made  yourself  a  permanent  throne  in  the  es- 
teem and  the  necessities  of  the  people.  Again,  I  tell  you 
what  I  do  in  order  to  give  weight  to  my  warning — a  warn- 
ing you  will  most  likely  disregard.  You  shall  hear  it, 
nevertheless.     There  is  trouble  ahead  for  you.     The  flame 

you  think  so  little  of  will  spread.     The  officers  of  N 

will  be  called  upon  to  resign  ;  then  the  officers  of  this  par- 
ish— 5'OU,  yourself." 

"Stop,  sir;  you  are  certainly  mad.  Called  on  to  re- 
sign? They  would  not  dare.  And,  if  they  were  fools 
enough  to  make  such  a  demand,  who  would  heed  it  ?  Re- 
sign the  offices  they  hold  lawfully  at  the  bidding  of  a  law- 
less rabble !  None  but  the  veriest  craven  would  do  it.  I 
suppose,  sir,  you  would  counsel  me  to  humbly  accede  to 
such  a  demand." 

"That  is  my  advice  ;  I  give  it  in  good  faith,  though 
you  ask  it  in  irony.  The  wisest  course  for  you  and  your 
friends  would  be  to  give  up  your  offices.  You  could  still 
live  here  and  continue  to  make  money." 


WILD    WORK.  213 

'^Thanks  for  tlie  privilege.  You  are  kind,  sir.  Iain 
sorry  I  can  not  accept  your  counsel.  I  should  despise  m}'- 
self  for  a  coward  if  I  were  capable  of  following  it.  I  re- 
fuse to  believe  in  the  bugbear  you  have  conjured  up — " 

*^  I  differ  with  you,"  interposed  Devene,  who  had  lis- 
tened attentively,  shrugging  his  shoulders  with  an  uneasy 
smile  at  the  Judge's  unflattering  comments.  "  Pickenson 
is  not  the  man  to  imagine  bugbears.  He  has  borne  pretty 
hard  on  us,  but  I  believe  he  has  given  us  an  honest  warn- 
ing, and  that  there  are  breakers  ahead,  as  he  says.  All  the 
same,  I'm  not  prepared  to  take  his  advice  about  resigning. 
We  hold  our  offices  lawfully  ;  no  set  of  men  has  a  right  to 
deprive  us  of  them.  They  can  not  force  us  to  give  them 
up.  If  they  arrest  and  imprison  us,  they  know  they  will 
pay  for  it,  and  such  violence  would  ruin  their  own  cause. 
The  proper  course,  Witchell,  seems  to  me  to  be  the  one  you 
refused  when  it  was  urged  on  you  this  morning — to  go  to 
"Washington  and  negotiate  for  troops  to  be  sent  here  to  pro- 
tect us  and  to  help  us  carry  the — " 

"  Silence  ! "  interrupted  Witchell,  sternly.  ''  Have  you 
no  discretion  ?  " 

He  darted  a  meaning  look  at  Judge  Pickenson. 

''Can't  help  it  now!"  returned  Devene,  with  an  an- 
noyed smile.  *'  The  cat's  out  of  the  bag.  But  I  am  not 
afraid  of  the  Judge.  He  has  never  betrayed  any  of  our 
secrets,  and  he  knows  many  a  one  of  them.  Yes,  it  is  pro- 
posed to  have  troops  quartered  here  to  keep  things  in  order, 
if  not  now,  then  a  while  before  the  election.  You  look 
glum  ;  the  idea  don't  strike  you  favorably.  Judge." 

'*  It  is  the  worst  remedy  that  could  be  resorted  to.  If 
it  gave  present  help  it  would  bring  future  ruin  upon  your 
chief,  all  of  whose  interests  are  here.  A  hint  that  troops 
were  looked  for  would  inflame  the  people  to — " 

*'  Let    it,"  uttered  Witchell  between    his  set    teeth. 


214  WILD   WORK. 

"  Since  it  comes  to  a  question  of  force,  they  shall  see  what 
hand  a  wretched  rabble  can  stand  against  the  Government 
of  this  country.  I  rejected  the  suggestion  about  troops  this 
morning  ;  I  felt  I  could  hold  my  own  against  any  opposition 
now,  or  at  the  polls.  But  I  have  changed  my  mind.  The 
troops  shall  come  ;  these  people  shall  see  that  the  Govern- 
ment backs  the  side  of  law  and  right.  Devene,  I  heard  a 
steamboat  whistle  at  Cohatchie  a  while  ago.  We  will  go 
down  to  the  landing  before  she  passes  here,  and  signal  her 
to  stop  for  us.  I  prefer  to  leave  at  night.  I  don't  care  to 
have  my  movements  bruited  abroad.  Judge  Pickenson, 
you  have  been  a  true  friend  in  times  past.  I  believe  you 
were  sincere  in  what  you  said  to-night,  but  I  will  prove  you 
a  *  false  wizard.'  I  will  show  you  that  my  foot  is  but  just 
on  the  ladder.  I  will  mount  it  in  spite  of  a  people  who 
do  not  know  what  is  best  for  them,  or  what  they  really 
want." 

He  turned  to  the  door ;  Devene  with  his  lantern  had 
already  passed  out.  Judge  Pickenson  hesitated  an  instant, 
then  he  strode  up  to  Witchell  and  laid  his  hand  on  the 
Captain's  arm. 

"  One  thing  more  I  must  say,  and  I  charge  you  to  heed 
it  as  you  care  for  your  brother  and  your  friends.  You  are 
going  away  ;  take  them  with  you.  It  is  not  best  for  them 
to  stay." 

Captain  Witchell's  face  went  a  shade  paler.  ''What !" 
he  said,  "  do  you  know  of  any  plot  against  their  lives  ?" 

''No,  I  only  fear." 

"Are  your  people,  then,  assassins  ?" 

"  They  are  not.  And  yet  I  would  not  answer  for  them 
or  any  other  people  when  blinded  by  excitement  and  misled 
by  the  representations  of  a  designing  leader." 

"Is  it  Alver  you  mean  ?  lie  is  too  hot-headed  to  be 
designing." 


WILD    WORK.  .    215 

Captain  "Witchell  stood  irresolute,  liis  brow  furrowed  by 
perplexing  thought. 

*^If  I  dreamed  that  any  danger  threatened  the  lives  of 
my  friends  here  I  would  not  stir  from  this  place.  But  I 
believe  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  have  instructed  Omar  and 
the  others  to  give  not  the  slightest  pretext  for  violence. 
They  will  obey  me,  and  their  enemies  will  not  venture  upon 
cold-blooded  outrage.  The  very  utmost  they  can  venture 
upon  is  arrest  and  imprisonment,  and  this  will  tell  in  our 
favor  in  the  end.  Surely,  Pickenson,  this  wild  night  has 
set  your  imagination  wool-gathering.  You  are  as  full  of 
forebodings  as  old  Howard,  but  you  can  not  infect  me.  I 
have  determined  on  my  course,  and  I  will  not  turn  aside. 
I  thank  you,  notwithstanding." 

He  was  gone  out  into  the  rainy  gloom.  Five  minutes 
after,  Pickenson  heard  the  whistle  of  the  steamboat  in  an- 
swer to  Devene's  waving  lantern. 

''  Whom  the  gods  would  destroy  they  first  make  mad," 
he  soliloquized,  lighting  a  cigar,  and  standing  at  the  win- 
dow to  watch  the  colored  signal-lights  of  the  steamer. 

A  few  days  later  Judge  Pickenson  wrote  to  Witchell : 

"  You  have  received  the  news  of  your  renomination.  It 
was  a  foregone  conclusion.     You  have  also  heard  that  it 

has  happened  in  our  sister  parish  of  N ,  as  I  predicted. 

The  officers  have  been  forced  to  resign.     Myron  and  Judge 

Boone  fled  here  in  hot  haste  and  took  passage  for  S . 

A  similar  movement  was  urged  here,  but  it  fell  through. 
You  are  still  strong  in  the  parish  of  your  creation.  There 
is  little  doubt  that  you  will  be  reelected,  when  you  will 
have  an  opportunity  to  retrieve  the  mistakes  you  have 
made. 

^'1  see  no  new  demonstration  of  excitement.  Our 
officers  are  quietly  attending  to  their  duties.  They  are 
cautious  and  guarded  in  speech  and  conduct.     Omar  seems 


216  WILD    WORE, 

to  rely  on  his  friends  and  to  feci  no  alarm.  I  took  tea  with 
him  and  his  bride  last  evening.  The  little  madam  is  a 
number  one  housekeeper  ;  her  muffins  melted  in  my  mouth. 
Devene  was  there  with  his  lately  married  wife — a  hand- 
some, high-sjiirited  girl,  showing  her  Southern  blood  in  her 
face.  She  seems  passionately  fond  of  her  good-looking 
husband.  You  have  heard  (haven't  you  ?)  the  romance  of 
their  courtship.  She  was  the  daughter  of  the  landlord  of 
the  hotel  in  Morefield  where  Devene  was  stopping  when  the 
Morefield  tax- payers  gave  the  collector  that  stormy  recep- 
tion. It  was  she  who  prevailed  upon  her  father  not  to  open 
the  doors  to  the  mob,  and  she  contrived  Devene's  escape  in 
a  woman's  ingenious  way. 

**  Edgefield's  love  affair  does  not  prosper,  and  the  fellow 
looks  a  little  careworn.  He  attends  Avell  to  his  business, 
though,  and  makes  a  capital  sheriff — worth  a  dozen  of  his 
predecessor — that  bullying  humbug,  Yent.  It  is  a  pity  he 
has  set  his  heart  on  that  little  flirt  Auzete. 

*' Howard,  too,  looks  down  in  the  mouth,  but  it  isn't 
love  that  troubles  our  sage  District  Attorney.  The  old  fel- 
low is  scared.  He  has  dreams  and  presentiments.  He  fears 
some  terrible  calamity  is  impending,  and  says  there  will  be 
wild  work  in  the  parish  soon.  I  must  own  I  partake  some- 
times of  his  gloomy  humor,  and  fear  with  him  that —  But 
you  have  already  branded  me  as  a  ^soothless  wizard.' 

**  However,  you  see  I  feel  easy  enough  to  write  you  gos- 
sip, and  to  put  off  no  longer  my  trip  to  Texas,  which  I  de- 
layed— as  I  may  tell  you  now — because  I  foresaw  a  possible 
*  little  unpleasantness '  that  I  might  help  to  restrain.  I 
leave  now  in  a  few  days. " 


WILD    WORK.  217 


OHAPTEE  XXL 


A  COMPANY  of  merry  picnickers  from  Lake  Clear 
streamed  into  Cohatchie  as  the  sunset  was  burnishing  the 
low,  red  waters  of  the  river.  A  steamboat  lay  idly  puffing 
at  the  landing.  The  gay  party,  who  had  not  yet  had  their 
frolic  out,  jumped  out  of  buggies  and  wagons,  and,  going 
down  to  the  boat,  besieged  the  Captain — a  well-known  fa- 
Yorite  among  them — for  a  moonlight  excursion.  The  jovial 
steamboatman  was  in  high  humor  at  having  secured  a  good 
return  trip  from  this  point  without  having  to  go  farther  at 
this  stage  of  water.  He  gallantly  acceded  to  their  request. 
He  would  take  them  a  few  miles  up  the  river  and  back 
with  all  the  pleasure  in  the  world.  They  had  good  music 
on  board,  too ;  they  could  dance  in  the  cabin,  or  on  the 
deck  by  the  light  of  the  moon.  He  knew  Miss  Eeese  wanted 
to  dance. 

He  looked  at  her  admiringly  as  he  spoke.  Hers  was 
always  the  handsomest  face  in  any  group  of  fair  women. 
To-day  its  radiant  looks  betrayed  nothing  of  the  disappoint- 
ment and  anxiety  that  gnawed  her  heart.  Two  of  her 
plans  had  miscarried  in  succession.  But  she  did  not  de- 
spair. 

An  hour  afterward,  as  she  was  waltzing  with  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  steamer,  she  suddenly  caught  an  eye  fixed  upon 
her,  looking  fi'om  beneath  a  slouched  hat.  She  gave  a 
quick,  furtive  glance  at  the  shabby  figure  leaning  against 
the  wall.  That  gray  hair,  that  mouth  covered  with  a 
grizzly  mustache,  were  strange  to  her,  but  the  hooked  nose, 
the  lowering  brow,  the  small,  yellowish  gray  eye,  gleaming 
with  a  vitality  at  variance  with  the  gray  hair — ^these  were 
horribly  familiar.  A  sick  feeling  came  over  her.  She 
stopped  in  the  dance,  saying  :  *'I  have  waltzed  too  much. 


218  WILD    WORK. 

I  am  a  little  dizzy.  Will  you  get  me  a  glass  of  water,  Cap- 
tain?" 

Her  partner  moved  away.  The  shabby  figure  darted 
to  a  side-table,  caught  up  a  half-filled  glass  of  wine  and 
brought  it  to  her. 

**Here  is  something  better  than  water,"  said  a  voice  she 
knew  too  well.  "  Drink  to  our  renewed  acquaintance, 
Mabel  Waters." 

Mechanically  she  extended  her  arm  and  took  the  glass. 
Her  hand  shook ;  the  red  liquid  was  spilled  on  her  white 
fingers. 

"Wipe  it  off  with  your  handkerchief.  It  comes  off 
easier  than  blood,"  whispered  the  hideous  stranger  with 
a  meaning  look.  '*  You  start ;  if  you  did  not  know  me 
before,  you  do  now.  Come  out  to  me  on  the  deck  five 
minutes  from  now.  I  will  find  a  dark  corner  where  we  two 
old  friends  may  talk  of  old  times  and  future  plans." 

She  made  no  answer.  Dismay  had  blanched  her  face 
and  paralyzed  her  tongue.  But  she  was  used  to  controlling 
herself.  She  repressed  her  emotion.  She  gave  him  a  look 
that  signified  she  understood  and  would  obey  him.  Five 
minutes  after  he  had  gone  out  and  taken  his  stand  in  a  re- 
tired part  of  the  deck,  she  came  up  to  him  and  stood  near 
without  speaking  or  looking  at  him.  He  put  out  his  hand 
to  draw  her  nearer. 

"  Come  closer  ;  we  must  have  a  little  confidential  chat. 
What,  you  draw  back  ?  You  scringe  as  if  my  hand  was  a 
snake.  It's  not  the  first  time  it's  held  yours,  though  I 
know  well  that  no  love  for  me  made  you  let  me  hold  these 
little,  soft  fingers.  No,  you  felt  nothing  but  disgust  for 
the  swarthy,  dirty  overseer,  but  you  wanted  to  use  him. 
You  loved  another,  or  you  loved  his  money  and  his  high 
place  in  the  world.  You  thought  if  you  looked  sweet  at 
me  on  the  sly  that  I'd  go  mad  for  you  and  put  your  lius- 


WILD    WORK.  219 

band  out  of  the  way  ;  and  you  would  marry  your  rich  lover. 
I  understand  it  all  now,  though  I  didn't  then.  I  was  fool 
enough  to  think  you  cared  for  me,  and  I  gave  poor  old 
Waters  his  quietus,  while  that  chicken-hearted  Morris 
looked  on  with  his  knees  shaking  and  his  face  as  white — 
as  white  as  yours  turned  just  now  when  I  called  you  by 
your  right  name.  He  didn't  guess  I  was  killing  the 
man  for  my  own  benefit ;  he  thought  he  had  hired  me  to 
put  him  out  of  his  way.  It  was  along  of  him  and  his 
cowardice  that  the  killing  came  out  on  us ;  but  I  was  too 
smart  for  them.  I  got  away,  and  he  swung,  as  he  deserved, 
for  being  such  a  fool.  I  meant  to  come  back  and  get  you. 
I  had  a  compromisin'  note  or  two  of  yours  that  would  bring 
you  to  taw,  as  I  knew,  but  when  I  slipped  back  I  found  you 
had  been  accused,  mobbed,  followed,  and  had  drowned 
yourself,  as  they  said,  in  tryin'  to  ford  the  river.  I  thought 
you  dead  from  that  day  to  this,  and  here  I  find  you  alive  and 
as  handsome — yes,  handsomer — than  ever.  You  won't  get 
away  from  me  again.  You  don't  like  the  prospect.  I 
see  it  in  your  looks.  I  know  I'm  not  particularly  fasci- 
nating, especially  with  this  grizzly  wig  and  bleached  mus- 
tache ;  never  mind,  you're  pretty  enough  for  us  both, 
and  I've  done  enough  to  earn  you.  Then  Fve  got  them 
notes  yet,^^ 

"You  wouldn't  dare  use  them,"  she  managed  to  say, 
huskily.  "  That  would  be  to  betray  yourself.  There's  a 
price  set  on  your  head." 

*' And  on  yours,  too,  my  beauty.  We  can  shake  hands 
there.  We  know  each  other's  secrets  ;  neither  dare  quarrel 
with  the  other.  That's  a  good  enough  bond  for  close 
friends.  I've  just  come  from  California.  I  wasn't  caring 
where  I  drifted  to,  but  now  I've  seen  you,  we'll  not  part 
company  ;  I'll  take  you  with  me.     Won't  you  go  ?  " 

He  pulled  her  close  to  him.     His  sensual,  savage  eyes 


220  WILD    WORK. 

gloated  on  her.  She  tried  to  free  herself  from  that  disgust- 
ing embrace. 

^*  Loose  me  !  loose  me  this  instant  !     How  dare  you  ?" 

*'  How  dare  I  ?  'That's  a  pretty  question  ;  you  know  why 
I  dare.  You  give  me  the  right,  and  you  know  it.  .  You 
put  it  in  my  head  to  kill  old  Waters  to  get  you." 

'at  is  false." 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  to  do  it  in  so  many  words,  but  you 
put  me  up  to  do  it  all  the  same,  and  you  knew  it  at  the 
time.  I  know  now  ;  it  was  that  you  might  be  free  to  marry 
the  other  fellow — but  he  should  never  have  had  you.  I'd 
seen  you  both  swung  first.  Say,  are  you  going  with  me  ? 
Better  promise  at  once.  Or  I'll  call  up  the  crowd  and  in- 
troduce Mabel  Waters  to  them." 

A  thought  flashed  into  the  woman's  mind. 

**  Yes,  I'U  go  with  you,  Cobb,"  she  said,  "on  one  con- 
dition. You  must  do  a  favor  for  me.  I  can  rely  on  no  one 
but  you.     It  is  something  you  can  do,  without  risk." 

"  Not  another  bloody  job,  I  hope.  What's  it  ?  Let  me 
hear." 

"  You  shall  hear  it.  Not  now.  There  is  some  one  call- 
ing me.  They  are  hunting  for  me.  Let  me  go.  For  pity's 
sake,  loose  me." 

"  One  kiss,  then,"  and  the  thick,  ugly  mouth  pressed 
itself  on  her  quivering  lips,  on  her  cheeks  that  grew  dead- 
white  with  disgust.  It  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  the 
woman  whose  fastidious  taste  was  her  only  substitute  for 
conscience,  but  fear  forced  her  to  yield. 

"  Shall  I  kill  myself  ?  "  she  thought  as  she  hurried  from 
him.  "  Shall  I  jump  over  this  boat's  side,  and  end  this  tor- 
turing fever  of  life  ?  Or  shall  I  kill  him,  after  I  have  made 
use  of  him  to  effect  my  purpose." 

She  decided  on  the  latter. 

That  night,  after  her  escort  had  parted  from  her  at 


WILD    WORK,  221 

Alver's  door,  she  went  up  to  the  master  of  the  house,  who 
sat  on  the  gallery,  moodily  smoking  a  cigar,  and  asked  : 

*^  Have  you  taken  that  fellow  out  of  the  lock-up  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  I  paid  his  fine — a  heavy  one.  There  was  no  alter- 
native. His  brother  was  after  me,  threatening  to  expose 
everything.  I'm  disgusted  with  them  both.  Their  cursed, 
blundering  stupidity  yesterday  has  nearly  ruined  all.  De- 
vene  saw  through  it,  and  knew  they  were  put  up  to  pro- 
voke a  fuss.  I  am  sure  he  did.  The  wretches  got  drunk 
and  blundered  like  idiots." 

*^They  are  not  fit  for  the  business  anyway.  I  have 
found  a  man  who  is  better  suited  to  our  purpose." 

"  You  have  found  a  man  ?    Who  is  he  ?  " 

'^He  is  a  man  I  knew  in  Texas.  I  have  met  him  to- 
night— luckily,  just  as  we  needed  him." 

"And  you  told  him— ?" 

"Nothing  yet.     I  have  appointed  to  see  him." 

"How  do  you  know  he  will  keep  silent  ?  You  rem^em- 
ber  I  have  a  hold  on  these  Nolan  men  to  compel  their  si- 
lence.   I  happen  to  know  of  that  Colfax  business  of  theirs." 

"And  I  happen  to  have  a  similar  hold  upon  this  man. 
I  know  of  a  secret  episode  in  his  life.  I  will  tell  3^ou  more 
another  time.  Enough,  that  you  can  believe  me,  when  I 
tell  you  he  is  the  right  man  for  this  work.  He  is  cunning 
as  well  as  bold,  and  liquor  has  no  more  effect  on  him  than 
water,  so  he  will  not  get  drunk  and  overdo  the  matter  as 
these  Nolans  did." 

Floyd  went  to  her  room,  lit  her  lamp,  and  sat  down  by 
it  to  pore  over  a  letter  she  took  from  her  pocket.  She  had 
studied  this  half  sheet  of  paper  hours  at  a  time  since  it 
came  into  her  possession.  It  did  not  come  there  honorably, 
but  that  mattered  little  to  Floyd,  who  permitted  no  such 
immaterial  obstacle  as  a  sentiment  of  honor  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  her  will. 


222  WILD    WORK, 

Witchell's  absence  at  this  important  time  aroused  the 
suspicion  that  he  had  gone  to  ask  for  troops  on  the  ground 
that  they  were  needed  to  preserve  order  in  the  parish.  The 
suspicion  required  to  be  confirmed,  and  Floyd  would  have 
given  much  to  have  had  the  handling  of  the  post-office 
matter  which  might  contain  a  confidential  correspondence 
between  Witchell  and  his  friends.  But  the  postmaster  was 
an  honest  man,  who  could  not  be  tampered  with.  He  was 
careless  and  unsystematic,  however,  like  most  village  post- 
masters, and  sometimes  permitted  an  overlooking  eye  while 
he  shuffled  over  a  package  of  letters  in  order  to  satisfy  the 
monotonous  inquiry,  *^ Anything  for  me?"  In  this  way 
Floyd's  falcon  eye  had  had  opportunities  of  reading  the  su- 
perscriptions upon  letters,  but  she  had  seen  none  she  thought 
might  have  been  written  by  Witchell  until  two  days  ago. 
That  morning  she  saw  from  her  window  the  ''pony  ex- 
press" pass  by  bringing  a  well-filled  mail  bag  from  the  dis- 
tributing office  at  N .    She  hastily  threw  on  her  hat  and 

ran  down  to  the  post-office,  arriving  while  the  mail  was 
being  opened.  She  was  permitted  to  ''help,"  through 
consideration  for  her  prettily-expressed  eagerness  to  get  an 
expected  letter.  She  caught  sight  of  an  address  that  sent 
a  tremor  through  her  fingers.  It  was  written  in  a  dis- 
guised hand,  but  she  thought  it  resembled  WitchelFs.  She 
dropped  the  fan  with  which  she  had  been  playfully  repell- 
ing the  advances  of  a  little  terrier. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  fan  ! "  she  cried ;  "  Mr.  Vaughn,  your 
dog  is  devouring  it ! " 

The  postmaster  made  a  dive  after  the  dog.  The  fan 
was  secured ;  so  was  the  letter.  It  was  safe  in  the  lialf- 
loose  sleeve  of  Floyd's  walking  jacket.  She  was  all  sweet- 
ness over  the  broken  slat  of  her  fan  ;  she  pouted  prettily 
because  she  had  no  letter.  She  left  a  charming  picture  on 
the  young  postmaster's  mind. 


WILD    WORK.  223 

Safe  in  her  room,  she  carefully  opened  the  letter,  which 
was  addressed  to  Mark  Hollin — Witchell's  brother-in-law — 
who  had  a  plantation  and  a  '^ store"  a  few  miles  below 
Cohatchie.  As  she  unfolded  the  inclosure  her  face  grew 
blank ;  the  letter  was  written  in  cipher.  But  this  only 
stimulated  her  eagerness  to  know  its  contents.  She  had 
had  some  experience  in  deciphering  cryptographs.  She 
called  up  her  skill  and  her  fertile  imagination  to  help  her 
solve  this  one.  She  sat  up  over  it  haK  the  night,  but 
without  success.  She  bent  over  it  again  to-night,  but  not 
very  hopefully.  All  at  once  her  color  deepened.  A  chance 
suggestion  seemed  to  give  her  a  clew  to  the  puzzle..  A 
moment's  further  study  confirmed  her  triumph.  She  had 
discovered  the  key  to  the  cipher.  She  read  the  letter 
through. 

But  its  meaning  was  still  mysterious.  Evidently  it  was 
an  appendix  to  a  previous  letter  containing  secret  instruc- 
tions, which  had  been  sent  by  private  hand.     She  read  : 

'^  By  this  time  you  have  my  letter  sent  by  B .    I  hope 

you  understand  that  the  matter  is  confided  to  you  alone. 

The  others  must  not  know  or  suspect — least  of  all  0 . 

The  measure  is  repugnant  to  me ;  I  would  not  employ  it 
if  there  was  any  other  way  to  obtain  what  I  want.  But 
let  me  say  again  that  there  must  be  no  serious  mischief 
done — just  enough  to  build  a  strong  paragraph  upon.  Em- 
ploy  none  but  a  safe  man — one  who  is  under  obligations  to 
us.  It  would  be  best  if  you  could  get  one  of  the  numerous 
Tonio  family  on  the  Hills.  You  know  only  the  old  man, 
but  they  are  all  our  stanch  friends,  and,  being  Spaniards, 
know  how  to  hold  their  tongues.  This  is  a  delicate  mat- 
ter ;  to  bungle  in  it  would  be  fatal.  I  rely  on  your  discre- 
tion." 

Floyd  studied  over  this  letter  for  five  minutes  ;  then  its 
significance  flashed  upon  her. 


224  WILD    WORK. 

'^The  troops  have  been  refused  him  !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  There  is  no  ground  for  military  interference,  so  one  must 
be  created.  It  must  appear  that  the  negroes  are  being  op- 
pressed ;  the  new  voting  element  in  danger  of  intimida- 
tion. *  Mischief  must  be  done,'  just  enough  to  'build  a 
strong  paragraph  upon,'  which  means  that  some  prominent 
darky's  fodder  stack  must  be  set  afire  or  a  shot  fired  down 
his  chimney,  that  the  hue-and-cry  of  Ku-klux  may  be 
raised.  Here  is  a  fine  discovery ;  here  shall  be  a  fine  ex- 
posure !    This  letter  shall  be  made  public  at  once." 

But  her  exultant  look  clouded.  After-consequences 
presented  themselves.  How  would  she  account  for  the  lei>- 
ter  being  in  her  possession  ?  How  would  she  prove  its 
genuineness  ?  how  establish  that  it  was  written  by  Wit- 
chell  ?  It  was  in  a  disguised  hand  and  had  no  signature,  and 
no  address  save  on  the  envelope.  It  would  be  assailed  as  a 
malignant  forgery.  True,  its  publication  might  forestall 
"Witchell's  policy  and  prevent  the  coming  of  the  troops,  but 
even  without  the  presence  of  these  Witchell  was  almost 
sure  to  be  elected.  He  wanted  them  mostly  to  impress  the 
people  with  the  sense  of  his  strong  backing,  and  to  give 
his  friends  a  fuller  feeling  of  security  in  which  to  work  for 
him. 

But  Alver  should  lay  the  letter  before  the  League. 
They  would  not  inquire  too  closely  as  to  how  it  was  ob- 
tained— and  they  would  believe  it ;  they  were  ripe  for 
believing  anything  against  Witchell.  It  would  be  fresh 
fuel  to  their  fiery  hate  of  him.  Floyd  was  impatient  of 
Witchell's  injunction — that  the  others,  Omar  especially, 
should  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  plot.  She  wanted  them 
all  implicated.  It  was  in  her  programme  to  sweep  the  dis- 
trict free  of  them  all. 

*'I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  something  better  with  this," 
she  said,  looking  at  the  letter  with  contracted  brow.     She 


WILD   WORK,  225 

started  up,  and  began  to  walk  the  floor  with  bent  head  and 
hands  tightly  clasped  before  her.  At  last  her  brow  cleared, 
she  threw  up  her  head,  her  eyes  shone. 

'*  Witchell  shall  be  '  hoist  with  his  own  petard  ! ' "  she 
cried.  *'  It  is  all  here  in  my  head.  This  letter  shall  be 
resealed  and  put  back  in  the  office.  Mark  Hollin  must 
receive  it.  The  copy  of  it  which  the  League  will  read 
shall  have  my  own  amendments,  by  which  it  will  appear 
that  Witchell's  underlings  here  have  received  instructions 
from  him  to  stir  up  a  negro  riot.  Meantime  Cobb  shall 
go  to  Mark  Hollin,  represent  himself  as  one  of  the  loyal 
and  manifold  Tonios,  and  ask  to  be  hired  to  him  as  a  farm 
hand.  He  is  safe  to  be  chosen  to  execute  Witchell's  *  deli- 
cate job '  of  Ku-kluxing  ;  and  he  shall  stir  up  the  negroes 
so  effectually  as  to  give  color  to  a  report  that  they  are  about 
to  'rise,'  and  afford  a  pretext  for  a  grand  rally  of  White 
Leaguers  from  the  neighboring  parishes  gathered  here  to 
suppress  a  bloody  disturbance  instigated  by  Witchell.  Ex- 
citement will  rise  to  its  highest,  and  on  its  tidal  wave 
Witchell  and  his  crew  will  be  swept  to  destruction.  If  it 
is  managed  well  the  verdict  will  be  :  '  Served  them  right.' 
The  game  will  be  difficult  and  risky,  but  there  is  a  chance 
for  success.  I  play  my  first  card  to-morrow  when  I  make 
Cobb  pledge  me  his  help." 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

The  sun,  low  in  the  west,  shone  behind  cloudy  bars  of 
rose  and  gold,  a  wind  crept  up  from  the  river  freshening 
the  heated  air,  stirring  the  silver-lined  leaves  of  the  cotton- 
wood,  and  moving  the  silky  rings  of  hair  on  Zoe's  forehead. 
She  sat  on  the  gallery  of  her  brother's  cottage,  her  sewing 


226  WILD    WORK. 

dropped  in  her  lap,  her  eyes  watching  the  sunset  gleam 
upon  the  tops  of  the  dark  woods  in  the  distance. 

**  Look  !  "  cried  her  little  nephew,  pulling  at  her  sleeve 
and  pointing  to  the  road  where  two  men  on  horseback  were 
approaching  the  house.  They  stopped  before  the  gate,  and 
the  taller  of  the  two  inquired  for  Mr.  Vincent,  and,  being 
told  that  he  had  ridden  back  in  the  swamp  to  look  at  some 
wood  his  hands  were  cording,  he  asked  if  Mr.  Vincent  did 
not  need  more  wood-cutters,  as  their  business  with  him  was 
to  get  work,  and  wood-chopping  would  suit  as  well  as  any- 
thing. 

Zoe  glanced  up  at  the  two  men,  and  thought  they  would 
not  do  much  at  the  wood  business.  Their  appearance 
showed  none  of  the  muscular  development  of  men  accus- 
tomed to  heavy  work.  Both  were  young  ;  the  taller  had  a 
supple,  slender  iSgure,  straight  as  an  Indian's,  a  pale,  beard- 
less face  (the  fact  of  being  without  a  beard  being  singular 
in  the  West),  a  small,  pale,  restless  eye,  hands  tanned  but 
slender,  and  a  foot  whose  shapeliness  could  not  be  wholly 
disguised  by  the  rough  Texan  boot  worn  outside  the  trou- 
sers. In  his  manner  there  was  a  mixture  of  carelessness  and 
refinement  at  odds  with  his  coarse,  dusty  clothes.  His  com- 
panion, lower  and  clumsier  in  build,  had  nothing  of  his  easy, 
independent  carriage  and  grace  of  look.  He  was  swarthy- 
skinned,  with  an  eye  dull  yet  watchful — like  an  alligator's. 

They  alighted  from  their  horses  and  came  up  to  the 
house,  the  tall  one  seating  himself  on  the  step  and  begin- 
ning to  play  with  the  children,  the  other  walking  up  and 
down  in  the  yard  whistling  and  humming  a  song,  the  re- 
frain of  which,  as  Zoe  caught  it,  was  : 

"  0  Mary !  sweet  Mary, 
You're  false  and  unkind, 
I'll  roam  the  broad  prairie 
Some  peace  for  to  find." 


WILD    WORK.  227 

Ilugli  came  at  last,  greeted  them  in  his  usual  off-hand 
way,  and  was  informed  of  their  business. 

^^  Wood-chopping,"  he  said  doubtfully,  as  his  eye  ran 
over  their  jSgures.  '^  You're  rather  light  for  that  work — 
and  your  hands  !    Are  you  used  to  work  ?  " 

'^Certain  we  are  used  to  it,  like  all  poor  devils.  Give 
us  a  job,  and  you'll  see  chips  fly." 

'*  Where  did  you  come  from,  and  what  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"  Crops  failed  for  want  of  rain  in  Texas  where  we  were, 
and  we  come  here  hunting  work." 

''Haven't  I  seen  you  somewhere?  I  recognize  your 
faces.  Stay  !  wasn't  your  comrade  here  the  fellow  that 
pitched  into  the  Radicals  so  at  Cohatchie  last  Saturday, 
abusing  Devene  and  Omar  Witchell  to  their  faces,  and 
swearing  he  could  whip  out  the  whole  of  them  ?  " 

''  The  same.  It's  Jim's  way  when  he  takes  too  much. 
He  must  show  his  teeth  right  away." 

''  He  did  more  than  show  his  teeth  Saturday.  He  was 
on  the  bite,  and  no  mistake.  He  was  outrageously  abusive, 
and  I  wonder  Devene  kept  his  hands  off  him." 

''He  wouldn't  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  meek,  sheep- 
looking  chap,  Witchell's  brother.  He  kept  holding  the 
other  fellow's  arm  and  telling  him  to  be  calm,  and  remem- 
ber what  Marshall  had  put  them  on  their  guard  about." 

"  If  your  brother  wanted  a  fight  out  of  them  he  went 
about  it  too  brash.  He  overdid  the  matter,  and  made 
them  suspect  he  was  put  up  to  it." 

"That's  Jim's  foolish  way  when  the  liquor's  in  him. 
I  saw  he  was  going  too  far,  but  I  was  bound  to  back 
him." 

"  He  got  taken  up  and  put  in  jail,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"He  did,  and  he  got  out  too." 

"Through  Alver's  influence,  I  heard.     You  are  lucky 


22S  WILD   WORK. 

to  find  such  a  friend.  I  wonder  he  did  not  employ  you 
upon  his  own  place.     Did  he  send  you  to  me  ?  " 

A  shade  of  embarrassment  tinged  the  young  man's  face 
at  the  keen  look  and  abrupt  question.  But  he  answered 
promptly  : 

*^  Not  exactly.  He  said  if  we  were  after  work  we  might 
try  here,  as  you  had  a  wood-yard,  and  he  knew  you  to  be  a 
square  man  to  deal  with." 

"  I  didn't  think  Alver  would  be  so  complimentary  to 
me.  Something  must  be  in  the  wind.  I'ye  never  joined 
his  White  League  that  they  tell  me  has  got  to  be  such  a 
strong  organization." 

*' You're  a  Rad,  then." 

"  No  more  than  Alver  is  ;  but,  all  the  same,  I  don't 
want  to  bind  myself  by  the  rules  of  a  clique  got  up  by  a 
man  who's  more  after  oflBce  than  he  is  after  principle,  or 
the  good  of  the  people.  But  this  is  drifting  away  from 
business.  You  want  a  job  of  wood-chopping,  and  I  can't 
give  it  to  you.     I've  more  choppers  now  than  I  want. " 

*' Anything  else,  then  ?  We're  bound  to  stay  around 
here.     Our  horses  are  too  jaded  to  travel." 

"  I've  nothing  you  could  do  unless  you  could  get  out 
shingles.  I  want  a  lot  for  my  new  stables,  but  I've  half 
promised  the  job  to  some  darkies.  You  don't  know  how 
to  get  out  shingles,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  young  fellow  cut  a  quick,  half  quizzical  glance  at 
his  comrade,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation, 
but  had  stopped  his  walk  and  his  whistle  to  listen  to  it,  and 
stood  rubbing  the  rust  off  the  blade  of  a  large  knife  with  his 
dirty  handkerchief.  Zoe,  who  did  not  like  his  furtive, 
reptile  eye,  wondered  if  that  might  not  be  the  rust  of  blood. 

*'  Shingle-getting  is  our  favorite  profession,"  said  the 
other.  "We  can  take  a  premium  on  that  any  day.  We'll 
do  the  work  cheap,  too,  as  any." 


WILD   WORK,  229 

''Very  well,  I'll  try  you  to-morrow,  Mr.  .     You 

haven't  told  me  your  name  yet." 

"  Nolan — Dan  and  Jim  ;  we're  brothers." 

''  You  don't  look  the  least  alike.  Well,  you  can  sleep 
in  that  little  outhouse  there,  Mr.  Nolan,  in  the  corner  of 
the  yard,  and  we  will  send  you  your  meals." 

''Did  your  professional  shingle-getters  goto  work  all 
right  ?  "  Zoe  asked  her  brother  the  next  day,  when  he  re- 
turned from  the  woods. 

"Go  to  work  !  There's  something  wrong  about  these 
fellows.  Wanting  work  is  an  excuse  to  hang  around  the 
neighborhood.  They  have  gone  and  hired  negroes  to  get 
out  the  shingles,  and  I  found  them  out  yonder  where  the 
hands  were  at  work  popping  away  at  a  mark.  Rube  says 
they  have  whisky  with  them.  I  must  turn  them  off.  They 
are  up  to  some  mischief  likely." 

That  evening,  after  sunset,  as  Zoe  and  the  children 
stood  on  the  river  bank,  they  saw  approaching  a  wagon, 
driven  slowly,  with  an  excited  group  of  negroes  following 
it.  A  little  darky,  running  on  ahead,  announced  to  them 
breathlessly  that  "  dem  two  white  men  done  font,  and  one 
bus  t'other's  head  clean  open  wid  a  axe,  and  he  dead  dar  in 
de  waggin." 

Zoe  hurried  up  to  the  vehicle,  which  had  stopped  before 
the  outhouse.  Jim  Nolan  and  two  negroes  were  lifting  the 
senseless  form  of  Dan  out  of  the  wagon.  They  put  him 
down  on  the  floor  of  the  porch.  His  face  was  covered  with 
blood,  his  head  a  mass  of  clotted  gore.  His  brother  stooped 
over  him.  He  was  only  half  sober  ;  his  hands  were  stained, 
his  face  streaked  with  his  brother's  blood. 

He  raised  Dan's  head  and  put  a  bottle  to  his  mouth,  his 
hand  shaking  and  the  liquor  spilling  over  the  unconscious 
man's  face. 

"Come,  now,  Dan,  stop  this  foolishness;  hold  up  your 


230  WILD    WORK. 

head  and  drink  some  of  this.  You'll  he  right  in  five  min- 
utes. Curse  the  hlood,  how  it  runs  !  It's  only  a  scratch. 
You  give  me  a  sight  harder  lick.  You  ought  not  to  have 
provoked  me,  throwing  up  that  blunder.  You  know  how 
I  am,  specially  when  I've  had  liquor.  But  I'll  forgive  you 
if  you'll  stop  this  darned  foolishness.  Open  your  eyes  ; 
drink  a  little  of  this,  now  do." 

He  tried  to  force  the  neck  of  the  bottle  between  his 
brother's  teeth.     Zoe  was  horrified. 

"  Let  him  alone  ;  can't  you  see  he  is  dying  ?  "  she  cried. 

*^  Dying  ! "  he  turned  on  her  with  a  red  glare  in  his 
dull-lidded  eyes  ;  "  dying  !  he  is  not  going  to  die.  If  he 
does,"  he  uttered  with  slow,  hoarse  emphasis,  striking  out 
with  his  clenched  fist,  '*  I  die  too.  He's  my  brother,  and 
if  I've  killed  him  I'll  go  too.  I'll  blow  out  my  brains  the 
minute  I  see  he's  at  his  last  gasp.  Here's  what'll  do  the 
business."  He  brought  up  a  pistol  out  of  his  pocket  and 
cocked  it  with  a  sharp  click  ;  then  his  roving,  crazy  glance 
fell  on  his  brother,  and  he  saw  Dan  had  opened  his  eyes. 
Down  he  got  over  him  again,  the  pistol  was  hastily  un- 
cocked and  thrust  into  his  pocket,  and  the  bottle  drawn  out. 
''You're  coming  round  old  fellow,  I  see  you  are,"  he  criSl, 
fumbling  about  his  brother's  face  with  his  bloody  fingers. 
"There  wasn't  much  the  matter.  That's  right,  stop  your 
nonsense,  and  drink  this  and  get  up.  Curse  it,  don't  shut 
your  eyes  again." 

"  Get  away  with  your  liquor,  Nolan,"  Hugh  said  sternly. 
He  had  just  come  up.  *'  Rube,  set  that  bucket  of  water 
close  to  his  head.  Here,  Zoe,  run  and  get  some  big  towels ; 
we  must  stop  this  bleeding.  The  doctor  won't  be  apt  to  get 
here  before  morning.  Get  back,  Nolan  ;  3-ou  can't  do  any 
good  ;  you're  shaking  like  a  man  with  the  ague.  Go  and 
wash  your  hands  and  face,  for  God's  sake." 

"  You  don't  think  Dan's  in  any  danger  ?" 


WILD    WORK.  231 

"  Well,  from  the  looks  of  all  this  blood,  I  should  think 
he  was,  and  I'd  advise  you  to  mount  your  horse  and  get 
away  from  here  as  quick  as  you  can  if  you  don't  want  to 
get  nabbed." 

^^  Never  ;  I'll  never  leave  him  in  death  or  life.  What'd 
I  do  without  Dan  ?  I'd  be  lost  without  him.  He's  all  I've 
got.  If  he  dies,  gentlemen,  I'll  go  too,  quick  as  hot  lead 
can  send  me.  But  he  ain't  a  going  to  die,  not  he  ;  he's  had 
too  many  hard  rubs  to  knock  under  for  such  a  tap.  Look, 
there's  his  eyes  open  now.  Hello,  Dan  !  you're  gettin'  all 
right,  old  fellow.  You  don't  like  so  much  water  round 
you,  do  you  ?  "Want  something  stronger  ;  here  it  is.  Get 
away,  nigger,  I  know  what's  good  for  him.  There,  you  see 
he  swallows  ;  that'll  bring  him  up.  Put  back  the  cloths," 
he  cried,  as  the  towels  dropped  away  and  exposed  the  swol- 
len, spongy  scarlet  cut,  from  which  the  blood  continued  to 
flow.  ''  Yes,  you'll  soon  be  aU  right,"  he  repeated,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  and  beginning  to  walk  the  floor  rapidly, 
whistling,  and  at  last  breaking  out  with 

"  O  Mary !  sweet  Mary, 
0  You're  false  and  unkind, 

I'll  roam  the  broad  prairie 
Some  peace  for  to  find." 

Such  scenes  were  repeated  all  night.  Dan  Nolan  lay  in 
a  stupor  from  which  he  occasionally  roused  and  stared  about 
and  spoke.  Once  he  sank  into  a  kind  of  swoon,  and  Vin- 
cent thought  him  dead.  Jim  Nolan,  down  on  his  knees, 
felt  for  his  pulse.     Shaking  his  head,  he  said,  coolly  : 

"  Yes,  he's  gone,"  and,  pulling  out  the  pistol,  cocked  it 
and  put  it  to  his  own  head. 

"  Stand  back,  Squire,"  he  said  to  Vincent.  '^  Don't 
interfere,  or  I'll  shoot  you,  sure." 

''Don't  you  see  your  brother  is  coming  to  ?"  shouted 


232  WILD    WORK. 

Vincent.  Those  words  arrested  the  would-be  suicide  and 
brought  him  to  his  brother's  side.  A  moment  after  he  was 
whistling  *^  Mary,  sweet  Mary." 

At  daylight  the  doctor  came,  and,  contrary  to  Hugh's 
fears,  pronounced  the  wound  not  necessarily  fatal,  and  the 
patient  likely  to  live  ;  though,  having  lost  so  much  blood, 
he  would  be  very  weak  for  a  long  time. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

He  was  ill  a  good  many  days,  his  brother  nursing  him 
unremittingly,  and  Zoe  helping  in  some  of  the  lighter  ser- 
vices. Dan  Nolan  was  a  mystery  to  her.  In  his  fine  brow 
and  mouth,  in  his  tones,  and  his  quiet,  careless  manner, 
there  was  a  strange  refinement,  entirely  wanting  in  his 
brother,  and  foreign  to  his  own  present  pursuits.  He 
had  read,  traveled  about,  mixed  with  artists  and  actors — 
perhaps  been  an  actor  himself — for  he  had  locks  of  hair 
from  the  heads  of  not  a  few  famous  ladies  of  the  stao^e.  He 
carried  a  flute,  too,  in  his  knapsack,  and  a  set  of  chess-men 
he  had  carved  with  much  taste. 

Once,  when  his  brother  had  gone  to  town  for  medicine, 
Zoe  was  sitting  by  him  as  he  lay  on  his  pallet  on  the 
shaded  back  porch.  He  had  been  more  than  usually  fever- 
ish, and  she  had  bathed  his  head  and  face.  He  took  her 
hand  as  she  was  moving  away,  and,  looking  at  her,  said  : 

^'  You  are  too  good  ;  you  don't  know  what  a  wretch  I 
am.  What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  that  the  hands  you 
have  been  bathing  are  stained  with  crime  ?  that  they  had 
even  meant  to  do  harm  to  you  and  yours  ?  " 

''Harm  tons!— Why?" 

''Hasn't  your  brother  enemies  ?" 


WILD    WORK.  233 

"  Especially  since  lie  refused  to  join  the  White  League. 
Alyer's  motto  is,  *  They  that  are  not  of  us  are  against  us  ! ' " 

He  would  not  say  any  more,  but  closed  his  eyes  and  lay 
back  as  if  exhausted.  Zoe's  curiosity  was  excited  ;  her 
fears  were  slightly  aroused.  She  felt  herself  justifiable  that 
evening,  after  Jim's  return,  in  stopping  an  instant  just  by 
the  window  when  she  heard  the  brothers  speaking  on  the 
porch  outside.     Alver's  name  caught  her  ear. 

"Did  you  see  him  ?"  Dan  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  came  near  breaking  his  neck,  too.  He  treated 
me  as  if  I  was  a  dog.  Told  me  he  had  no  further  use  for 
us,  that  we  had  played  the  fool,  and  gave  me  twenty  dol- 
lars. Said  that  was  enough  for  such  marplots  as  we  had 
proved  ourselves." 

'*  Twenty  dollars — the  devil !  As  if  he  didn't  make  a 
firm  bargain  for  us  to  stay  here  till  after  the  election  at  his 
expense  !  I'll  get  up  there  pretty  soon  if  it  kills  me,  and 
I'll  show  him." 

*^  Better  not.  He  declared  if  I  came  up  there  again 
he'd  have  me  arrested,  whether  for  what  I  did  to  you,  or 
K)r  the  old  scores,  I  don't  know.  He  said  it  would  be 
healthy  for  us  to  get  out  of  the  parish. " 

"He's  afraid  we'll  peach.  He  want's  us  out  of  the 
way.     He  has  got  somebody  else  to  do  that  job  for  him." 

"I  believe  he  has.  I  am  sure  of  it.  The  town  is  in  a 
commotion  to-day  ;  people  standing  about  with  their  heads 
together  talking.  Something's  going  to  drop  pretty  soon. 
An  old  fellow  told  me  it  was  whispered  they  were  looking 
for  the  negroes  to  rise,  and  pitch  into  killing  and  robbing 
generally." 

"We  understand  that,"  Dan  said,  significantly;  "at 
least  I  think  /  do.  If  they  can  make  believe  the  Rads 
started  the  riot,  it'll  be  better  than  their  first  plan.    There, 


234  WILD    WORK. 

you've  Imrt  my  head,  old  fellow ;  that  was  an  awkward 
punch." 

Zoe  stole  away  from  her  place  at  the  window  troubled  and 
perplexed.  Her  situation  just  now  was  peculiarly  painful. 
Hugh  had  been  taken  down  two  days  before  with  fever ; 
her  sister-in-law  had  a  little  babe  not  ten  days  old  ;  the  re- 
sponsibility of  the  family  rested  on  her  young  shoulders. 
She  knew  nothing  of  the  two  young  men  whom  accident 
had  quartered  upon  them.  They  might  be  rogues  or  mur- 
derers for  aught  she  knew,  and  now  she  seemed  to  have 
got  an  inkling  of  some  evil  mystery  with  which  they  had 
to  do.  She  had  no  neighbors  on  this  side  the  river  upon 
whom  she  could  rely.  ''Every  one  for  himself"  was  their 
motto.  They  were  narrow,  selfish  people,  with  whom, 
moreover,  her  brother  was  not  on  friendly  terms.  His 
quick,  somewhat  rough  temper  had  resented  some  petty 
meanness  and  meddling  on  their  part.  Then,  too,  he  was 
looked  on  with  suspicion  because  he  had  not  joined  the 
White  League.  True  Southerner  as  he  was,  he  had  his 
own  notions,  and  he  held  that  it  would  fetter  his  freedom 
of  conscience  and  of  action  to  pledge  himself  to  follow  the 
lead  of  any  organization  controlled  by  a  man  whose  ambi- 
tion was  his  god. 

Thus  Zoe  felt  herself  in  a  manner  isolated.  Her 
keen  instinct  had  made  her  vaguely  conscious  that  some- 
thing was  wrong — something  unusual  going  on  among 
whites  and  blacks.  Crops  were  neglected  ;  men  rode  about 
restlessly,  crossed  the  river,  and  gathered  in  Cohatchie ; 
negroes  left  their  work  to  collect  in  knots  around  the  house 
of  some  important  character  among  them,  and  talk  ear- 
nestly. To-day  she  had  noticed  that  they  seemed  to  be  ex- 
cited ;  their  gestures  were  agitated  ;  she  was  driven  to  remark 
their  restless  tramping  and  riding  up  and  down  the  river. 
Hugh's  own  farm  hands  looked  at  her  strangely  and  held 


WILD    WORK.  235 

aloof.  Eyen  the  cook  was  reserved  and  sullen.  Zoe  felt 
the  oppressing  influence  of  all  these  things,  but  she  had 
no  time  to  indulge  in  misgivings.  Her  day's  work  and 
cares  were  not  yet  ended.  She  called  the  children  to  her, 
gave  them  their  supper  of  milk  and  bread,  and  put  them 
to  bed.  Then  she  saw  to  the  comfort  of  her  sister-in-law, 
lying  white  as  her  pillows,  with  her  fat,  rosy  babe  sleeping 
beside  her.  She  administered  Hugh's  medicine  to  him, 
and,  after  freshly  arranging  his  bed  and  room,  she  left  him 
in  charge  of  the  old  colored  woman,  who  had  been  his  nurse 
when  he  was  a  baby,  while  she  went  out  on  the  piazza  for 
the  sake  of  the  fresh  air  and  to  get  a  moment's  quiet  thought. 
Some  one  was  sitting  on  the  steps  ;  he  called  her  name  as 
she  approached. 

''Is  it  you,  Henry  ?"  she  said.  "Have  you  been  here 
long  ?     I  did  not  know  it.     You  must  pardon  me." 

"I  knew  you  were  busy.  Miss  Zoe,  but  I  v/anted  to  see 
you  a  moment,  if  no  more,  so  I  waited." 

He  was  a  young  farmer  who  lived  across  the  river — a 
good-hearted  fellow,  very  popular  among  the  men,  and 
deeply  attached  to  Zoe,  but  quite  timid  in  his  worship. 
She  liked  him.  His  simple,  merry  talk  made  some  bright 
spots  in  her  dreary  life  in  this  place  where  people,  wrapped 
in  the  culture  of  cotton,  were  like  cocoons  in  their  cells. 

"You  wanted  to  see  me,  Henry;  was  it  for  anything 
particular  ?  "  she  asked,  sitting  down  on  the  steps  near  him. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  not  to  go  to  the  ball  to-morrow 
night." 

"The  ball— what  ball?" 

"  Why,  the  ball  that  Colonel  Alver  gives  in  his  fine  new 
store  that's  just  finished." 

"  I  had  forgotten.  I  believe,  too,  I  was  to  have  gone  with 
you.  So  many  cares  and  distresses  have  come  upon  me 
lately,  that  they  have  quite  put  the  ball  out  of  my  head.  I 
11 


230  WILD    WORK. 

should  not  go  anyhow,  but  why  are  you  so  particular  in 
requesting  me  not  to  be  there  ?  " 

''  I  can't  tell  you  that.  Miss  Zoe  ?  " 

"AYhynot,  Henry?'' 

*'  I'm  pledged  not  to.  But  I  may  tell  you  this  much,  I 
think.  There'll  be  no  ball,  no  dancing  of  any  account. 
It'll  be  broken  up  as  soon  as  it  begins." 

"Henry,  I  insist  on  your  telling  me  what  you  mean. 
There  is  some  mystery  floating  in  the  air.  I  feel  it,  and 
it  troubles  me.  What  is  it  that  will  break  up  the  ball  ? 
Why  are  you  pledged  to  keep  it  secret." 

''We  are  pledged  not  to  tell  the  secrets  of  the  League 
to  outsiders,  and  your  brother  is  an  outsider." 

"  But  he  is  a  true  friend  to  his  country." 

"I  believe  that.  And  I  don't  see  why  this  should  be 
one  of  the  secrets  of  the  League.  Everybody  ought  to 
know  it,  seems  to  me ;  you  especially,  who  are  so  unpro- 
tected on  this  place  right  now.  Miss  Zoe,  I  must  tell  you  ; 
it  may  put  you  on  your  guard.  They  say  the  negroes  are 
going  to  rise  ;  that  the  night  of  the  ball  they  aim  to  sur- 
round the  ball-room  and  kill  the  men  and  carry  off  the 
ladies." 

''  Oh,  what  a  wild  project !  Do  you  think  the  negroes 
would  be  such  fools?  What  end  would  they  have  in 
view  ?" 

"It's  the  Eadicals  putting  them  up  to  it." 

"  For  what  purpose  in  the  world  ?  How  did  it  get  out, 
Henry?" 

"It  got  out  through  a  letter  Witchell  wrote  to  his 
brother,  telling  him  to  stir  up  a  riot  with  the  negroes  to 
scare  and  kill  the  whites,  so  that  the  Radicals  would  carry 
the  election." 

"  You  saw  that  letter  ?" 

"  No  ;  we  heard  at  our  last  meeting  (that  is,  a  few  of  us 


WILD    WORK.  237 

did)  how  such  a  letter  had  been  intercepted  in  the  post- 
office  at  Cohatchie,  and  how,  in  some  way,  it  had  come  to 
the  ears  of  the  League  leaders  that  the  night  of  the  ball  was 
the  night  chosen  for  the  attack.  The  programme  is  that 
we  are  to  go  there,  as  if  we  suspected  nothing ;  only,  we 
are  all  to  carry  arms.  A  few  know  why,  and  are  pledged 
not  to  tell ;  the  others  suspect  there  is  something  in  the 
wind,  and  will  come  armed,  because  told  to  do  so.  The 
Eadical  officers  are  invited.  Captain  Witchell  himself  may 
be  there.  They  are  looking  for  him  from  New  Orleans  to- 
night or  to-morrow." 

"It  all  seems  strange  to  me.  It  is  strange  that  the 
Radicals  should  wreck  their  own  cause  this  way  Why,  it 
is  their  policy  to  make  out  the  negroes  are  the  most  peace- 
able, best  disposed  citizens  of  the  South ;  and  now  to  incite 
them  to  a  riot  on  the  eve  of  election  !  Why,  that  is  to  sell 
themselves,  sure  enough.  Of  course  the  riot  would  be 
quelled.  The  few  white  votes  that  might  be  destroyed 
would  count  nothing  against  the  injury  that  would  be  done 
the  Republican  party  in  the  State — in  the  whole  South. 
And  Witchell  has  been  working  hard  to  gain  the  confidence 
of  a  portion  of  the  whites  here,  and  has  quite  a  number  of 
friends.  It  seems  strange.  I  can  not  realize  that  such  a 
thing  can  be  intended.     Do  you  really  believe  it  ?  " 

*^  Oh  !  yes.  Miss  Zoe,  I  am  afraid  there  is  something 
of  it." 

*^  It  may  be.  I  know  there  is  something  unusual  going 
on  among  the  negroes.  I  have  noticed  they  seem  restless 
and  excited,  especially  to-day." 

^^Well,  you  know  they  are  all  stirred  up.  They  are, 
or  they  pretend  to  be,  as  scared  as  sheep  the  wolf  has  got 
among.  One  of  their  big  men — old  Moses  Clark — the 
richest  and  most  thought  of  darky  about  here,  was  killed 
yesterday.     Haven't  you  heard  about  it  ?  " 


238  WILD    WORK, 

"  I  stay  here  and  nurse  children  and  sick  folks,  and  hear 
nothing." 

**  He  was  called  out  just  at  dusk  and  shot  down — the 
negroes  say  by  a  white  man.  It's  a  pity.  He  was  a  harm- 
less, respectable  old  fellow.  And  now  I  hear  to-day  that  the 
cabins  of  two  more  negroes  have  been  fired  into,  that  the 
negroes  have  been  threatened  by  an  unknown  party,  and  have 
had  one  or  two  anonymous  letters  through  the  post-office, 
warning  them  to  join  together  for  protection  or  they  would 
be  trampled  out.  Old  Kube  tells  me  they  have  come  to 
Levi  Adams — here  on  your  place — to  know  of  him  what 
they  must  do.  I  can't  think  who's  been  working  this  mis- 
chief to  the  negroes.  I  know  it's  not  our  League.  They've 
always  frowned  down  Ku-klux  measures  of  any  kind. 
Maybe  all  this  is  done  by  the  negroes  and  Eads  to  thi*ow 
dust  in  our  eyes.  If  so,  we'll  be  too  sharp  for  them.  They'll 
be  a  little  disappointed  to-morrow  night." 

"  As  well  as  the  poor  girls  who  expected  to  dance.  Why 
do  you  not  warn  them  all  to  stay  away  ?  " 

'^"We  were  ordered  to  keep  silent.  I  have  broken  com- 
mands, but  I  was  determined  to  warn  you.  Miss  Zoe,  you 
had  better  go  to  Oohatchie  and  stay  with  some  of  your 
friends.  It'll  be  very  unsafe  for  you  here,  with  nothing  but 
the  swamp  back  of  you,  and  so  many  negroes  and  so  few 
white  people  around.  You  must  go  across  the  river  any- 
how.    Come  and  stay  with  mother." 

*'  And  leave  this  sick  family  and  these  little  children  ? 
JSTo,  Henry,  I  shall  stay  right  here.  I  hope  this  may  prove 
a  mere  sensational  story — an  election  canard.  I  know  our 
people  would  not  be  so  unprincipled  as  to  incite  a  riot, 
and  I  don't  think  the  Radicals  are  such  fools  ;  and  the  ne- 
groes have  not  sense  or  courage  enough  to  organize  anything 
unless  put  up  to  it — unless,  perhaps,  if  they  are  really  fright- 
ened, to  band  together  in  an  irregular  way  for  protection. 


WILD    WORK  239 

That  is  little  Ealph  calling  me.  He  will  wake  up  his  fa- 
ther if  I  don't  go  at  once  and  tell  him  a  bear  story  to  send 
him  to  sleep  again.  Thanks,  Henry,  for  coming  to  put  us 
on  our  guard.  But  I  trust  your  warning  will  not  be  needed. 
Good-night. '^ 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  day  following — the  day  of  the  ball — was  still  and 
warm,  shining  down  on  ripening  cornfields  and  orchards 
burdened  with  fruit.  But  to  Zoe  the  cloudless  day  had 
dark  portents.  Ominous  signs  met  her  eye.  No  negroes 
worked  in  the  fields  ;  no  songs  or  laughter  floated  up  from 
the  quarter ;  no  little  darky  came  to  beg  fruit.  Some 
negro  men  came  to  the  house  to  ask  Zoe  to  open  her 
brother's  store  and  sell  them  powder  and  shot  to  go  hunting 
with.  They  seemed  to  resent  her  refusal,  and  muttered 
their  disbelief  of  the  excuse  she  gave.  Early  in  the  day 
she  saw  the  mulatto,  Levi  Adams  (the  negro-leader),  ride 
off  from  his  cabin  on  her  brother's  place  and  take  his  way 
down  the  river.  When  he  returned  some  hours  later  he 
rode  up  to  a  pecan-tree  in  front  of  his  cabin  and  talked 
awhile,  with  much  vehement  gesticulation,  to  some  negroes 
collected  there  ;  then  he  rode  away  again,  this  time  up  the 
river.  As  he  passed  Zoe,  who  was  standing  in  her  front 
yard,  he  turned  in  his  saddle  and  gave  her  a  sinister  look. 
He  was  a  remarkable  negro — half-breed,  rather,  for  he  had 
Indian  blood  in  his  veins.  He  rode,  leaped,  swam,  and 
dodged  like  an  Indian.  His  skin  was  tawny  red,  his  nose 
straight,  his  eye  keen  and  watchful. 

The  chief  ferry  for  the  planters  who  lived  below  bayou 
Vincey  was  at  Hugh  Vincent's  place.     Before  sunset  they 


2^0  '^'^^^^    WORK. 

began  to  ride  up  to  the  ferry  by  twos  and  threes  on  their 
way  to  Alver's  ball.  Each  man  carried  a  gun  and  pistols — 
strange  ball-room  equipment.  Levi  Adams  stationed  him- 
self on  the  bank,  motionless  as  a  bronze  statue  on  his  horse, 
and  eyed  attentively  every  group  that  crossed.  Zoe  could 
see  the  scowl  on  his  dark  face  from  the  piazza  where  she 
stood.  Dan  Nolan,  propped  on  his  elbow  as  he  lay  on  a 
bench  close  to  her,  observed  the  negro  and  said,  quietly  : 

^'That  darky's  got  the  devil  waked  up  in  him.  He's 
scared  and  savage  at  once,  like  a  gi'izzly  that  scents  the 
dogs.  He's  going  to  try  to  do  something,  he  doesn't 
know  what.  Jim  Nolan,"  turning  to  his  brother,  *^  there'll 
be  fun  at  this  ball.  Get  your  horse  and  go.  Come  back 
to-night  and  report.  We  might  have  had  an  invite  ;  yes, 
and  led  of  the  ball,  if  you  hadn't  played  the  deuce.  I  don't 
fancy  you'll  be  welcomed  there  now  by  my  lord.  Never 
mind,  go  ;  I  want  to  hear  the  news. " 

At  the  same  hour  Floyd  Eeese  was  nervously  dressing 
for  the  ball.  Earlier,  she  had  been  down  to  the  ball-room 
putting  the  finishing  touches  to  its  decorations.  As  she  was 
walking  back,  in  company  with  several  ladies,  they  passed 
a  shabby  figure  sitting  on  a  barrel  in  front  of  a  store,  smok- 
ing a  short-stemmed  pipe.  Pretty  Mrs.  Perrine  pointed 
him  out. 

*'  Diogenes  sitting  on  instead  of  in  his  tub,"  Floyd 
said,  laughing.  Nobody  noticed  that  she  held  up  seven  of 
her  slender,  ungloved  fingers — nobody  but  the  shabby  man 
on  the  barrel,  who  answered  the  signal  by  a  motion  of  the 
eyelids. 

As  the  clock  was  striking  seven  she  came  out  upon  the 
back  veranda,  already  dressed  for  the  evening.  She  walked 
there  a  little  while,  enjoying  the  perfumed  dusk,  then  she 
stepped  down  into  the  yard  and  glided  among  the  shrub- 
beried  mazes  in  her  floating  draperies.    She  cropped  tea-roses 


WILD    WORK.  211 

negligently,  and  did  not  turn  her  head  toward  a  shaded  cor- 
ner of  the  yard,  where  her  quick  eye  had  seen  a  figure  pause 
outside  the  yine-covered  paling.  The  figure  stood  there 
motionless  in  the  deepening  dusk.  At  last  Floyd  ap- 
proached the  tree-shadowed  corner  and  began  to  twist  off  a 
flower  spray  from  the  yine  on  the  paling. 

"You  haye  done  well,"  she  said,  low. 

"Glad  you're  pleased,"  muttered  a  yoice  outside. 
"'Twarn't  a  pleasant  job,  though.  That  old  darky's  sure 
to  haunt  me.     He  was  a  meek-looking  cuss." 

"Why  did  you  deal  with  him  as  you  did?  Hurting 
him  pretty  badly  would  haye  sufficed.  Alyer  wanted  no 
killing.     He  is  opposed  to  any  bloodshed  eyen — " 

"No  bloodshed,  eh  ?  It's  just  so  with  the  other  side. 
*  Mind,  Tonio,  there  must  be  no  bloodshed,'  says  Mark  Hol- 
lin  ;  and  no  doubt  he's  wild  oyer  what's  happened.  But 
when  folks  hire  the  deyil  to  scratch  their  backs  they 
shouldn't  cry  out  if  his  nails  go  deeper  than  they  bargained 
for.  For  myself,  I  think  it's  best  as  it  is.  It  don't  pay  to 
do  things  half  way  ;  and  dead  men  can't  blab.  If  Alyer's 
so  squeamish,  he  hadn't  ought  to'ye  begun  a  thing  like  this. 
That's  not  the  last  blood  there'll  be  before  this  is  through 
with.     He  has  sense  enough  to  see  that,  surely." 

"  He  shuts  his  eyes  to  it.  Let  him.  The  thing  has  gone 
so  far  now  it  will  carry  itself  through  if  you  do  your  work 
well  to-night.     How  are  the  negroes  ?  " 

"Stirred  up  to  the  right  pitch;  scared  and  crazy  as 
bed-bugs,  most  of  'em  ;  lookin  out  for  somethin'  they  don't 
know  what.  Some  of  'em's  sayage,  too — primed  with  hate 
and  whisky,  and  rubbin'  up  their  guns  for  what  may  come. 
They're  safe  to  make  some  sort  of  spurt.  Some  of  the 
worst  scared  are  goin'  to  Omar  Witchell  to-night  to  know 
what  they  must  do  and  ask  him  to  protect  them.  I  put 
'em  up  to  that." 


242  WILD    WORK. 

*'  It  was  smart  in  you.  It  will  play  into  our  hand?. 
They  will  be  found  at  his  house  to-night  when  the  alarm 
is  given.  If  all  works  as  it  ought,  there  will  be  no  proof 
of  a  plot  on  our  side,  no  suspicion  of  a  trap  even  by  those 
who  helped  to  set  it.  Now,  Cobb,  be  off.  You  know  every- 
thing depends  on  to-night.  It  is  nearly  dark.  You  are 
first  to  go  across  the  river  and  fire  the  blank  charges  from 
your  repeating  gun  to  scare  Holcomb's  messenger.  Mind 
that  no  one  sees  or  suspects  you." 

'*Do  you  mean  to  say  that  none  of  the  White  League 
are  up  to  this  ?  " 

"None  but  Alver.  Even  he  does  not  know  all  that 
has  been  done,  or  foresee  all  that  we  intend  shall  happen. 
The  others  think  they  are  coming  to-night  to  quell  a 
possible  negro  outbreak  incited  by  Witchell's  Eing.  Go, 
now,  Cobb.  Eemember  I  depend  on  you  to  bring  things 
to  a  successful  point  to-night.     Don't  blunder,  for  heaven's 


"  For  your  sake  I  wont.  Heaven  has  mighty  little  to 
do  with  this  thing,  I  take  it.  You  know  my  pay  has  got 
to  be  you,  and  the  money  Alver  promised,  and  a  good  share 
of  the  spoils.     They  will  be  pretty  rich,  I  fancy." 

''Yes,  yes  ;  go." 

The  figure  moved  off  through  the  dusk,  and  Floyd  hur- 
ried into  the  house.  Half  an  hour  later  she  was  at  the 
party.  The  long,  wide  room  of  Alver's  new  store  made  a 
good  enough  ball-room.  It  was  well  lighted  and  decorated 
with  flowers.  Hardly  twenty  ladies  were  present,  but  more 
than  three  times  that  number  of  men  stalked  about  the 
room  in  costumes  rather  rough  for  the  dance,  and  with 
looks  that  betokened  a  fiercer  excitement  than  belongs  to 
the  ball-room. 

Two  or  three  of  the  Radical  officers  came  in  and  walked 
around,  saying  a  few  words  here  and  there.     Their  manner 


WILD    WORK.  243 

betrayed  repressed  uneasiness  and  distrust.  Floyd  Reese 
welcomed  them  cordially.  Alver  was  unusually  courteous, 
but  they  met  cold  looks  from  many  of  the  others,  some  of 
whom  had  been  their  friends,  and  they  soon  withdrew. 
Ominous  rumors  had  come  to  their  ears.  Omar,  though 
troubled,  put  little  credence  in  what  he  heard.  Deyene 
and  Edgeville  feared  nothing.  Hollin  and  Wallace  were  at 
their  plantations.  Captain  Witchell  and  Ed.  Devene  had 
not  returned.  Howard  alone  was  frightened.  He  had  not 
the  youth  and  bold  spirits  of  the  others.  He  would  not 
desert  his  post,  but  he  was  a  prey  to  apprehension.  He 
was  shut  up  in  his  room  to-night  writing  to  the  one  woman 
the  old  bachelor  had  ever  loved — the  woman  who  was  to 
have  been  his  wife  in  the  long  ago,  but 

"Whispering  tongues  had  poisoned  truth." 

He  had  made  his  will,  and  left  to  the  child  of  his  old  love 
the  little  savings  of  his  life. 

Edgeville's  capricious  ladylove  gave  him  only  a  haughty 
little  nod  as  she  passed  him  in  promenading. 

A  month  ago  he  had  thought  she  really  cared  for  him, 
but  "the  tide  has  turned  against  us,  and  she  has  turned 
with  it.  Let  her  go,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  moved 
away  with  bitterness  at  his  heart. 

An  hour— nearly  two  hours— went  by.  It  was  near  ten 
o'clock.  Alver's  eyes  turned  often  to  the  door,  and  he  bit 
his  mustached  lip  impatiently.  Floyd's  laugh  had  a  false 
ring,  and  spots  of  color  burned  on  her  cheeks.  At  last 
there  was  the  sound  of  a  horse  galloping  at  full  speed  along 
the  hard  street.  A  moment  after  a  young  man  rushed  into 
the  room,  dripping  wet,  bare-headed,  his  face  pale  with  ex- 
citement. He  walked  straight  to  Alver,  his  spurs  clanking 
across  the  floor,  his  garments  dripping  streams  of  muddy 
water  as  he  went.     He  took  a  leather  pocket-book  from  his 


244  WILD    WORK. 

bosom,  opened  it,  took  out  a  folded  paper  and  handed  it  to 
Alver,  saying,  breathlessly  : 

*'  From  Uncle  Holcomb." 

The  contents  of  the  note  were  these  : 

"  Colonel  :  I  got  your  note  telling  me  of  the  rumor  that 
the  negroes  would  have  a  meeting  at  Brownton  to-night, 
and  I  must  keep  a  lookout  and  report  to  you  by  ten  o'clock. 
There  is  a  gathering  of  negroes  here,  whether  of  a  hostile 
nature  or  not  I  can't  say.  They  have  been  coming  in  by 
two  and  threes  since  dark.  Levi  Adams  and  a  few  others 
are  armed,  but  you  know  they  often  carry  guns.  Levi 
never  goes  without  one.  I  can't  make  out  what  they  are 
after.     I  report  according  to  request. 

"Yours,  H." 

Alver  ran  his  eye  over  these  lines,  then  looked  at  the 
young  man  who  had  brought  the  dispatch. 

"  You  have  something  to  report ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  negroes  !  the  negroes  are  in  arms  in  Keener  field, 
this  side  of  Brownton.  They  fired  upon  me  as  I  rode 
through  the  field  on  my  way  here.  At  least  a  dozen  guns 
were  fired  at  me." 

"Did  you  see  any  one  ?" 

"I  saw  the  heads  of  several  negroes  above  the  cotton. 
I  think  they  followed  me.  I  heard  horses  galloping  behind 
me  at  a  distance.  My  horse  was  scared.  He  ran  for  the 
river.  I  swam  across,  and  came  straight  here  to  let  3^ou 
know." 

"You  did  well,"  commented  Alver.  Then,  advancing 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  his  tall  figure  drawn  up  to  its 
full  height,  his  eye  flashing  like  a  sword  of  blue  steel,  he 
said  :  "  Gentlemen,  you  have  heard  what  this  young  man 
says.     The  note  in  my  hand  tells  me  that  the  negroes  are 


IVILB    WORK,  245 

gathering  at  Brownton.  Levi  Adams,  whom  you  know  for  a 
desperado,  is  heading  them.  They  will  probably  march 
upon  Cohatchie.  They  no  doubt  knew  that  this  young  man 
was  a  messenger  sent  to  apprise  us  of  their  gathering,  and 
fired  upon  him  with  intent  to  kill.  We  must  immediately 
take  steps  to  patrol  the  town,  form  ourselves  into  vigi- 
lantes, and  arrest  all  suspicious  characters." 

"  First  of  all,  the  d — d  Kads  that  are  at  the  bottom  of 
this,"  cried  a  loud,  harsh  voice — the  voice  of  Cobb — at  the 
door.  Loud  shouts  answered  him.  His  words  were  echoed 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  A  chorus  of  excited  exclamations 
filled  the  house ;  men  rushed  pell-mell  for  the  door.  Al- 
ver's  strident  voice  arrested  them. 

"Order!  "he  commanded.  "A  few  of  you  see  these 
young  ladies  home  ;  the  others  must  at  once  mount  their 
horses  and  see  to  their  arms.  Some  of  you  I  wish  to  send 
in  all  haste  to  Morefield,  Madden,  Malta,  and  other  towns, 
with  dispatches  asking  for  men  to  be  sent  to  our  assistance. 
We  must  be  prompt.  There  is  no  knowing  the  extent  of 
this  movement,  or  what  form  it  may  take.  We  must  sup- 
press it  at  the  fou7itain-7iead.     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.  The  Radical  fountain-head.  We  will  sup- 
press it,"  responded  his  listeners.  "Go  ahead.  Colonel. 
We're  under  your  orders." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Alver.  He  was  in  his  element — looked 
up  to,  giving  command.  His  eyes  lighted  with  quick- 
ened intelligence  and  energy.  Floyd  -gave  him  a  glance  of 
admiration  as  she  passed.  She  herself  was  pale  as  marble, 
but  her  eyes  shone  with  hard,  gem-like  brightness. 

Alver  ordered  everything  with  wonderful  rapidity.  Mes- 
sengers riding  swift  horses  were  sent  to  the  various  towns 
in  hot  haste,  carrying  dispatches  that  the  negroes,  incited 
by  the  Republicans,  had  risen,  and  that  Cohatchie  was  in 
danger  of  being  burned  and  its  citizens  massacred.    Parties 


gl-G  WILD    WORK. 

of  young  men  patrolled  the  town  in  different  directions, 
stopping  at  negro  houses,  and  calling  upon  the  inmates  to 
come  out  and  give  an  account  of  themselves.  Most  of  them 
seemed  terrified  and  bewildered ;  a  few  of  the  men  were 
sullen  and  defiant.  Some  were  absent  from  home,  and 
their  wives  declared  they  had  gone  to  Omar  Witchell  to 
find  out  from  him  what  was  the  matter,  and  what  they 
must  do. 

As  the  men  rode  from  house  to  house  in  the  moonlight, 
their  guns  gleaming,  their  voices  challenging,  suddenly  there 
came  a  sharp  report  followed  by  a  cry,  "  I  am  shot !"  from 
one  of  the  young  patrollers.     A  bullet  had  pierced  his  arm. 

The  first  blood  spilled  at  such  a  time — it  is  a  breaking 
of  the  seals  of  the  vials  of  wrath  and  frenzy.  It  is  the  last 
charm  thrown  in  the  caldron.  At  once  the  excitement 
boils  over,  drowning  prudence  and  reason  in  its  flood. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

It  was  ascertained  that  a  negro — a  vicious,  hair-brained 
creature  named  Saul — had  fired  the  shot  which  wounded  the 
young  man.  He  was  arrested,  and  with  him  another  negro 
who  had  been  found  in  his  company  armed  with  a  gun. 
They  were  brought  before  Alver  and  the  conclave  of  excited 
patrolmen.  They  denied  the  shooting  at  first.  Finally 
Saul  said,  doggedly,  **I  did  fire  one  shot."  He  was  asked 
if  he  was  put  up  to  it  by  the  '* carpet-baggers."  He  an- 
swered *' Yes."  His  '^confession"  was  proclaimed  abroad. 
It  flashed  like  an  electric  shock  through  the  crowd.  Excite- 
ment rose  to  frenzy  ;  indignation  filled  every  breast.  No 
one  reflected  that  the  negro's  answer  might  reasonably 
be  false — that,  confused    and  terrified,   the  weak-witted 


WILD    WORK.  247 

creature  might  have  sought  to  shift  the  blame  of  his  rash 
act  upon  another.  Or  that  both  the  firing  of  the  shot  and 
the  accusing  of  the  officers  might  have  been  instigated  by 
some  malicious  schemer,  who  had  promised  protection  and 
pardon  to  the  ignorant  tool  in  case  he  was  arrested.  The 
people  were  too  wildly  moved  to  think  of  these  extenuating 
probabilities.  They  seemed  to  see  the  climax  put  upon 
their  wrongs — a  hideous  plot  of  blood  and  outrage  un- 
masked. They  determined  to  endure  no  more.  They  would 
form  themselves  into  a  body  of  punishment;  retribution 
should  fall  upon  the  guilty.  They  would  clear  the  polit- 
ical atmosphere  by  a  storm  of  vengeance. 

"When  the  sun  rose  upon  the  little  town  it  looked 
on  the  scene  of  a  miniature  revolution.  The  excitement 
increased  every  hour.  Armed  men  poured  in  from  the 
neighboring  towns  and  parishes.  Men,  with  their  families 
from  the  river  and  the  hills,  crowded  into  Cohatchie  for  pro- 
tection. Strict  military  rule  prevailed.  A  double  guard 
encircled  the  town,  and  no  one  was  allowed  to  pass  out  of 
its  limits  without  a  pass  signed  by  Colonel  Alver.  Parties 
of  mounted  men  visited  all  persons  suspected  of  lukewarm- 
ness  in  the  present  action,  and  demanded  that  they  coop- 
erate in  it,  or  render  a  valid  excuse  for  not  joining  in  the 
movement.  The  negro  Saul  and  his  companion  were  carried 
in  a  wagon  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  a  great  crowd  fol- 
lowing. The  wagon  was  driven  underneath  a  gigantic  oak, 
the  ropes,  which  were  around  the  negroes'  necks,  were  made 
fast  to  a  large  limb,  and  the  wagon  was  driven  away,  leaving 
them  hanging.  Up  to  this  last  moment  they  had  not  ap- 
peared to  realize  their  fate.  They  seemed  to  expect  par- 
don. Saul  was  heard  to  enjoin  his  comrade  not  to  ^'git 
scared,  it'll  all  come  out  right."  Not  till  the  ropes  were 
being  tied  to  the  limb  did  a  look  of  anxiety  come  into  his 
half-idiot  face.     His  eye  roved  in  a  wild  search  over  the 


248  TF/Zi)    WOEK. 

crowd,  and  he  shifted  his  quid  of  tobacco  from  cheek  to 
cheek.  As  the  lashed  team  sprung  forward,  and  the  wagon 
rolled  from  under  the  wretches'  clinging  feet,  they  seemed 
for  the  first  time  to  despair  of  pardon,  began  to  tremble 
and  shriek,  and  beg  for  a  minute's  time  to  tell  ^'  how  it 
was." 

The  Radical  office-holders,  six  in  number,  were  arrested 
and  imprisoned.  In  addition  to  Saul's  confession  there  was 
the  evidence  against  them  that  negroes,  some  of  them  armed, 
were  found  huddled  about  Omar  Witchell's  house  soon  after 
the  alarm  of  a  riot  was  given.  The  negroes'  excuse  that, 
frightened  at  the  hostile  movements  of  the  whites,  they 
had  come  to  Omar  to  ask  his  advice  and  protection,  was 
scouted  as  false.  The  officers  were  confined  in  a  building 
in  the  center  of  the  town  ;  a  strong  guard  was  put  around 
it,  as  much  to  keep  the  excited  crowd  from  getting  to  the 
prisoners  as  to  prevent  these  from  escaping. 

The  ones  first  arrested  were  Howard,  Edgeville,  Devene, 
and  young  Witchell  (respectively.  District- Attorney,  Sheriff, 
Tax  Collector,  and  Tax  Receiver).  Parties  were  then  sent; 
to  the  plantations  of  Hollin  and  Wallace  (Magistrate  and 
Supervisor  of  Registration).  These  brothers-in-law  of  Wit- 
chell were  arrested  and  brought  to  Cohatchie  and  locked 
up  in  the  room  with  the  other  officers. 

Meantime  a  court  had  been  hurriedly  improvised,  and 
a  committee  of  citizens,  with  Alver  at  their  head,  sat  in 
judgment  upon  the  prisoners'  case  in  a  building  not  far 
from  where  they  were  confined.  More  than  one  of  the  in- 
censed committee  insisted  on  the  death  penalty  for  the  im- 
prisoned officers.  It  was  noticeable  that  Alver  did  not  give 
his  voice  for  this  extreme  measure. 

The  prisoners  met  the  crisis  calmly.  Even  Howard  was 
quiet.  The  old  man  sat  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  wrinkled 
hands  that  lay  on  his  knees ;  only  now  and  then  he  looked 


WILD    WORK.  219 

up  pityingly  at  his  five  young  companions.  Wallace  and 
Hollin  talked  apart  in  broken  sentences.  Devene  wrote 
rapidly  in  a  pocket  note-book  ;  perhaps  it  was  something 
to  reassure  his  young  bride,  who  had  shrieked  and  clung  to 
him  so  when  he  was  taken.  Edgeville  walked  the  narrow 
floor,  his  hands  locked  behind  him,  his  thin  lips  compressed 
with  half  scornful  pain.  Omar  sat  at  a  table,  his  face  bowed 
on  his  hands. 

Presently  Edgeville  stopped  by  him. 

'^Omar?" 

He  raised  his  head  slowly  and  looked  at  the  young 
Sheriff.     His  eyes  were  red  and  moist. 

"  You  losing  pluck,  old  fellow  ?  Brace  up  ;  don't  give 
way.  However  this  scrape  may  end,  let's  be  game.  What 
will  be  must  be  ;  it's  all  in  a  life." 

"  It  is  well  for  you  to  talk  so,  Edgeville,  you  who  have 
nobody  else  involved  in  your  fate.  You  ought  to  thank 
God  you  are  not  married.  I'd  give  my  right  arm  never  to 
have  got  my  poor  girl  into  this.  Here  she  is  among  stran- 
gers ;  think  what  she  must  feel  !  I  see  her  this  moment, 
straining  her  eyes  in  this  direction,  seeing,  hearing  the 
mob,  trembling  and  heart-wrung.     God  pity  her  !  " 

With  a  groan  he  dropped  his  face  again  in  his  hands. 

Devene  closed  his  note-book  and  beckoned  to  Edge- 
ville. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Resign  ?  They'll  de- 
mand that  at  the  very  least." 

"  No,  I'll  die  first.  I  will  not  be  forced  to  give  up  my 
right." 

*^A11  the  others  have  agreed  to  resign  to  save  their 
lives." 

**  Well,  let  them.  You  have  all  got  something  to  live 
for,  unless  it's  old  Howard,  and  his  soul  and  body  have 
lived  together  so  long  they  hate  mortally  to  part  company. 


250  WILD    WORK. 

Mine  don't.     I'd  as  lief  have  a  bullet  to  cut  the  connection 
as  to  wait  till  old  age  wore  the  thread  in  two.     It  might  be 
different  if  somebody  else's  fate  was  bound  up  with  mine, 
as  in  your  and  Omar's  case ;  but  there's  nobody." 
He  walked  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  whistling 

"  I  care  for  nobody,  and  nobody  cares  for  me." 

The  door  opened  ;  one  of  the  guard  thrust  his  head  in. 

'*  Here's  a  book  somebody  sends  to  one  of  you  named 
Edgeville.     It's  a  Bible,  I  believe." 

Edgeville  rolled  up  his  eyes  in  comic  despair. 

*^  Are  they  sending  us  Bibles  already  ?  I  thought  such 
attentions  did  not  come  until  after  the  death-warrant." 

"  That'll  come  along  soon  enough,  my  hearty,"  said  the 
guard.  "  Here,  let  me  look  through  this  to  see  if  some- 
thing contraband  ain't  slipped  into  it." 

He  took  the  back  of  the  book  between  his  thumb  and 
fingers  and  fluttered  open  the  pages. 

*^  There's  nothing,"  he  said  ;  'Hake  it — small  good  it's 
going  to  do  such  as  you,  though. " 

Edgeville's  face  had  changed  as  his  eye  fell  upon  tlie 
book — morocco-bound  and  silver-clasped.  He  took  it  and 
walked  to  the  window  with  it ;  turning  his  back  to  the 
others,  he  looked  through  its  pages  eagerly.  At  the  back, 
on  a  carefully  sealed  down  fly-leaf,  he  found  these  words, 
in  small,  penciled  characters  : 

'^  I  do  not  believe  you  are  guilty.  Don't  be  reckless 
and  willful.  Do  not  refuse  to  resign,  I  beg  you,  for  your 
safety's  sake,  for  my  sake.  Yes,  for  my  sake.  I  may  tell 
you  noiv  I  love  you.  Forgive  my  folly,  and  remember  your 
life  is  dear  to  Auzete." 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  the  words.  The  color  surged  into 
his  thin  cheeks ;  his  heart  beat  with  great  throbs.  He 
walked  back  to  Devene. 


WILD    WOBK.  251 

^Tve  changed  my  mind,  Bob,"  he  said.  '*  1  will  not 
make  myself  conspicuous  by  solitary  opposition.  I'll  re- 
sign with  the  rest  of  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  they  will  ask  you  ?  "  sneered  Wal- 
lace, who  had  overheard  him.  '^  Small  good  resigning  will 
do  any  of  us." 

Howard  echoed  the  gloomy  prophecy  with  a  shake  of 
his  gray  head. 

"  Then  we'll  die  joUj  fellows  together," 

Edgeville  sang  gayly  as  he  turned  on  his  heel.  The  pre- 
cious Bible  was  in  his  breast  pocket ;  he  pressed  his  arms 
over  it  feryently. 

**  Your  love  comes  late,  my  darling,"  he  said  to  himself, 
**but  it  is  a  draught  that  sweetens  all  this  gall." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  trial  of  the  prisoners  went  forward  with  some  show 
of  dignity  and  fairness,  for  was 'not  Alver — ^the  diplomatic — 
at  its  head  ?  The  officers  under  arrest  were  charged  with 
going  beyond  the  law  in  administering  affairs — a  charge 
that  might  easily  be  true,  since  they  were  the  instruments 
of  a  man  who  made  his  own  will  the  law  of  his  conduct, 
and  whose  energy  and  personal  magnetism  made  him  the 
autocrat  of  the  parish  he  had  created,  if  not  of  the  district 
he  represented.  Ostensibly,  his  only  office  was  that  of  Eep- 
resentative  in  the  State  Senate,  but  he  absorbed  other 
offices.  He  levied  taxes,  received  the  money  collected,  in- 
fluenced the  legislation,  and  managed  the  judiciary  of  the 
parish,  controlling  all  verdicts  of  consequence. 

The  blacker  accusation,  that  the  Radical  officers  had 


252  ^VILD    WORK. 

instigated  a  brutal  negro  riot,  was  far  from  being  proved. 
There  was  nothing  to  show  that  an  outbreak  had  been  in- 
tended beyond  the  report  of  the  Brownton  messenger  that 
he  had  been  fired  upon  as  he  rode,  the  shot  fired  by  the 
negro  Saul  (which  might  well  have  been  the  result  of  fright 
or  excitement,  or  a  vicious  prompting),  and  the  fact  that 
several  armed  negroes  were  found  near  Omar  Witchell's 
house  on  the  night  said  to  have  been  fixed  upon  for  the 
riot.  To  a  cool  judgment  this  would  appear  but  narrow 
grounds  for  finding  men  guilty  of  a  crime  which  no  motive 
was  apparent  for,  and  which  would  injure  the  Radical 
cause  throughout  the  State.  But  the  committee  at  Co- 
hatchie  were  not  judging  in  cold  blood.  To  their  inflamed 
vision  the  guilt  of  the  prisoners  loomed  distinct  and  black. 
The  verdict  might  have  been  instant  death  but  for  Alver. 
He  poured  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters  ;  he  gave  his  voice 
for  milder  measures. 

He  walked  the  floor  nervously,  and  listened  to  the 
shouts  of  the  excited  mob  in  front  of  the  building  that  held 
the  prisoners.  Was  he  dismayed  by  the  violence  of  the 
tempest  he  had  called  up  ?  He  seemed  relieved  when  at 
length  the  question  of  death-punishment  was  set  aside. 
This  was  the  arrangement  substituted — that  the  Eadical 
officers  should  resign  their  positions  and  quit  the  State 
within  twenty-four  hours,  pledging  themselves  by  oath 
never  to  enter  it  again. 

The  verdict  was  carried  to  the  prisoners.  They  under- 
stood well  that  if  they  refused  to  abide  by  it  death  was  the 
alternative.  They  consulted  together  and  agreed  to  accept 
the  conditions  provided  they  should  be  given  a  guard  to  see 
them  safely  out  of  the  State.    Alver  acceded  to  this  at  once. 

There  was  some  grumbling  at  the  leniency  of  the  judg- 
ment. To  the  men  who  had  ridden  in  such  hot  haste  to 
quell  a  bloody  disturbance  in  Cohatchie  this  seemed  a  tame 


WILD    WORK.  2-53 

ending  of  the  drama,  an  insufficient  punishment  of  the 
men  whose  guilt  they  honestly  believed  in. 

'^  Better,  a  long  sight,  string 'em  up  yonder  alongside 
the  niggers,  and  be  done  with  it,"  muttered  several  voices. 

In  each  instance  Cobb's  watchful  eye  singled  out  the 
speakers,  and  took  a  mental  photograph  of  their  faces. 

"  Let  'em  go,"  growled  a  harsh  voice  behind  him  ; 
''give  'em  that  guard,  but  advise  'em  to  insure  their  lives 
before  they  start.     Something  might  happen  on  the  way." 

Cobb  turned  quickly  and  looked  at  the  man  who  had 
spoken — a  gaunt,  swarthy  man,  half  of  his  face  hid  by  a  black 
beard,  his  long  hair  streaked  with  gray,  and  a  lurid  gleam 
in  his  bloodshot  eye.  Yet  in  his  face  and  carriage  there 
was  an  indescribable  hint  of  good  birth. 

Cobb  dropped  back  alongside  him. 

"  Here's  my  hand  on  them  sentiments,  friend,"  he  said 
low.     "  What's  your  name,  if  I  may  know  it  ?  " 

''Dick,"  returned  the  other. 

"Xothing  but  Dick?" 

"  They  put  Cap'n  to  it  on  the  Mexican  border  where  I 
hail  from.  I  used  to  have  another  name  somewhat  known 
in  these  parts,  but  never  mind  it  now.  Nobody  seems  to 
recognize  me,  and  it's  just  as  well.  I've  only  come  to  see 
how  time  is  serving  some  folks  I  have  a  particular  inter- 
est in." 

"  The  Radicals,  for  instance  ?  " 

"Yes,  the  Radicals,  for  instance — one  of  them  in  par- 
ticular. The  big  dog  of  the  pack  is  not  here,  I  find.  I 
owe  him  a  debt  with  four  years'  interest.  I'd  have  a  chance 
of  paying  it  now  if  he  was  here.  But  he's  slipped  off — the 
sneak — and  left  this  small  fry  to  pay  for  his  sins  and  their 
own  too.  Let  them  pay,  too,  I  say.  A  pretty  thing  it  is 
to  raise  this  great  rumpus,  and  then  only  to  send  the  scamps 
safely  off  with  all  their  ill-got  gains  in  their  pockets." 


254  WILD   WORK, 

"You  are  right.  I  must  sec  you  again.  Meet  me  here 
to-night.  These  men  won't  leave  till  sunrise  to-morrow. 
There'll  be  a  crowd  around  here  all  night ;  but  we  and 
some  others  will  have  a  chance  to  get  off  aside  and  have  a 
talk  among  ourselves.     Have  you  a  good  horse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  capital  little  mustang." 

"  That's  well ;  meet  me  at  this  corner  at  seven  o'clock." 

*^  I'll  be  there,"  said  the  man,  who  was  no  other  than 
Lanier,  back  from  his  four  years'  sojourn  in  Mexico — swar- 
thier, thinner,  and  more  sinister  of  look — with  beard  and 
hair  prematurely  gray.  He  had  not  been  six  hours  in  his 
native  neighborhood,  and  had  made  himself  known  to  no 
one  when  Alver's  dispatch  came,  and,  all  afire  with  the 
hope  of  seeing  himself  at  last  revenged  upon  the  man  who 
had  crossed  him  in  the  fierce  desire  of  his  heart,  he  rode  in 
hot  haste  to  Cohatchie,  and  cursed  the  luck  when  he  found 
that  the  husband  of  the  dead  Adelle  was  not  among  the 
prisoners. 

When  Cobb  turned  off  from  the  crowd  collected  around 
the  building  in  which  the  officers  were  confined,  he  took 
his  way  down  the  street.  He  stopped  a  moment  as  he  came 
to  Omar  "Witchell's  house — the  neat  little  home  he  had 
built  for  his  bride.  Already  there  were  about  it  tokens  of 
woman's  refined  taste — the  flower  beds  in  the  yard,  the 
young  vines  trained  across  the  piazza,  the  bird-cage  among 
the  pots  of  blooming  plants  in  the  window.  But  the  sing- 
ing of  the  canary  was  now  the  only  cheery  sound  about  the 
little  home.  The  wives  of  the  four  married  officers  stood 
together  on  the  piazza,  but  they  were  not  speaking.  They 
were  waiting  in  agonized  suspense  for  news  concerning  the 
fate  of  their  husbands.  Through  all  that  dreadful  day 
their  anguish  had  been  greater  than  that  of  the  prisoners. 
Every  shout  from  the  mob  rent  their  hearts.  The  tramp- 
ling of  the  horses  in  the  street  as  parties  of  armed  men  rode 


WILD   WORK.  255 

by,  the  noise  of  tlie  crowd  as  they  carried  the  negroes  to 
the  gallows,  struck  them  with  fresh  apprehension. 

Cobb  leaned  on  the  paling  and  looked  at  them.  Omar's 
wife  stood  with  her  locked  hands  resting  on  the  railing — 
her  white  face,  her  small,  childish  figure  leant  forward  as 
if  intent  to  catch  some  sight  or  sound  that  should  convey  a 
hope  to  her  heart.  Devene's  young  bride — her  Southern 
nature  less  capable  of  control — walked  the  piazza  wringing 
her  hands  and  crying.  The  two  sisters  of  Witchell  were 
quiet.  Mrs.  Wallace,  pale,  with  compressed  mouth,  stood  at 
the  back  of  the  chair  in  which  her  younger  sister  sat.  Mrs. 
Hollin  had  her  arms  about  her  child,  holding  him  to  her, 
her  head,  with  all  its  golden  hair  disheveled,  bowed  upon 
the  flaxen  locks  of  the  boy. 

"While  Cobb  looked  on,  the  expected  message  came.  A 
man  galloped  up  on  horseback.  Mrs.  Devene  sprang  to 
meet  him,  and  returned,  holding  out  a  note. 

^'  For  you,"  she  said,  looking  at  Mrs.  Witchell.  "  Shall 
I  read  it  aloud,  Minnie  ?  " 

A  quick  gesture  of  assent  answered  her.  Mrs.  Devene 
read  : 

"We  have  resigned  our  offices,  and  are  to  leave  the 
State  upon  oath  not  to  enter  it  again.  There  was  no  al- 
ternative. It  was  do  this  or  die.  '  Eesign  only  to  save 
your  lives'  was  my  brother's  instruction.  We  leave  to- 
morrow at  sunrise.  I  trust  to  God  we  shall  be  permitted  to 
see  you  and  say  good-by,  but  do  not  be  disappointed  if  this 
is  not  to  be.  I  will  see  Hayne  if  I  can,  and  get  him  to  in- 
tercede that  the  favor  be  granted  us — the  only  one  I  shall 
ask — to  go  to  you  and  say  farewell.  You  can  not  come  to 
us  here  through  the  mob.  It  would  not  be  permitted,  and 
you  must  not  attempt  it.  I  have  not  been  able  to  speak  to 
Hayne.     lie  will  not  come  to  me,  though  I  have  sent  for 


256  WILD    WORK. 

him,  and  called  him  when  I  saw  him  in  the  crowd.  And 
I  thought  him  my  true  friend.  But  do  not  fear  for  us  ;  we 
will  be  safe.  A  guard  of  our  own  choosing  will  accompany 
us,  will  see  us  safely  out  of  the  State.  Don't  distress  your- 
self any  more,  dearest.  Be  brave  and  strong.  Think  of 
the  time  when  we  will  be  reunited,  and  among  our  old 
friends.  Alver  has  given  us  his  word  of  honor  that  our 
wives  shall  be  protected,  and  every  facility  allowed  them 
for  joining  us  as  soon  as  we  are  in  a  place  of  safety.  I  will 
write  to  you  to-night  and  tell  you  at  length  what  to  do 
and  what  to  send  me.  We  have  been  furnished  with  pens 
and  paper,  and  will  each  of  us  write  to-night.  Don't  wor- 
ry;  all  will  be  right.     Yours,  Omar." 

'^  Thank  God  !  it  is  not  what  we  dreaded,"  cried  the 
wife  of  Devene.  "  Let  them  leave  this  country.  Who 
would  stay  in  it  after  this  ?  I  will  follow  Eob  with  all  my 
heart,  or  I  will  go  with  him.  Why  should  we  not  go  with 
them  ?  " 

*^We  may  not  even  be  allowed  to  see  them  before  they 
go,"  Mrs.  Wallace  said. 

"  I  will  see  my  husband.  They  shall  not  keep  me  back. 
What,  not  let  me  tell  him  good-by  ?  Could  any  one  be  so 
cruel?" 

Omar's  little  wife  said  nothing  audibly.  Her  lips  moved 
as  she  sank  into  a  seat.  She  motioned  for  the  note,  and  took 
it  in  her  hands  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  lines  written  by 
the  beloved  hand. 

Witchell's  sisters  moved  off  to  the  end  of  the  piazza  and 
looked  into  each  other's  faces — a  look  of  mutual,  dreary 
understanding. 

"They  will  choose  the  guard  themselves,"  Mrs.  Hollin 
said  at  last,  with  an  effort  at  reassuring. 

The  older  sister  smiled  bitterly.    *'  They  will  choose  !  " 


WILD    WORK.  257 

she  said.  "  What  choice  is  there  ?  Who  among  all  those 
men  yonder  dare  befriend  them  if  he  wished  to  ?  Hayne 
will  not  come  near  them — Hayne,  whom  Omar  treated  like 
a  brother  ;  who  sat  at  his  table  and  shared  his  purse.  I 
have  little  hope  from  the  fact  that  they  will  choose  their 
guard." 

"'Your  head's  level  there,  my  Yankee  madam,"  Cobb 
said  to  himself  as  he  moved  off  and  turned  into  a  street 
running  back  of  the  main  or  river  street.  Every  house  he 
passed  had  horses  tied  to  the  paling  or  to  the  trees  in  front, 
and  men  in  groups  in  the  yard  or  on  the  piazza.  Most  of 
these  were  carelessly  or  roughly  dressed,  dusty  and  travel- 
stained,  boots  thrust  on  over  their  trousers,  and  minus  col- 
lars or  other  neck  gear,  showing  in  what  haste  they  had 
leaped  on  their  horses  and  ridden  here  in  answer  to  Alver's 
summons.  It  seemed  as  though  the  old  Confederate  days 
had  come  back.  Cobb's  rough  heart  was  stirred.  "  Hal- 
loo, boys  !  Where's  camp  ? "  he  said  as  he  passed  a  group. 
When  he  reached  Alver's  house,  the  yard  was  full  of  men 
who  had  been  eating  supper  at  a  long  table  spread  for  them 
on  the  back  gallery.  Floyd  Eeese  was  waiting  on  them. 
She  was  bringing  out  a  large  pitcher  of  milk  as  Cobb  saun- 
tered up  and  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  gallery.  The 
loose  sleeves  of  her  blue  dress  fell  away  from  her  round 
arms,  her  dark  gold  hair  was  breeze-blown  into  little  rings 
on  her  forehead.  She  looked  a  lovely  Hebe,  innocent  of 
anything  but  gay  and  cheerful  service. 

''  Give  me  a  draught,  fair  ministering  spirit,"  Cobb  said 
as  she  passed  near  him. 

As  she  stooped  to  pour  it,  he  looked  up  into  her  eyes 
significantly  from  under  his  broad-brimmed  hat. 

"  Here's  to  our  Rads,"  he  said  low.  "■  May  they  take 
plenty  of  money  and  their  best  horses  with  them  on  their 
trip  to-morrow.     It'll  be  all  the  better  for  us." 


253  WILD    WORK 

They  were  at  the  upper  end  of  the  gallery.  There  was 
no  one  within  hearing  of  their  low  tones. 

"  Cobb,"  said  Floyd,  leaning  toward  him,  "  are  you 
certain  of  being  able  to  carry  this  out  to-morrow  ?  There'll 
be  a  guard,  remember." 

*'  A  fig  for  the  guard  !  If  they  don't  help  they'll  not 
hinder.  I've  spotted  a  dozen  fellows  among  these  here 
that'll  see  me  out  in  the  business  ;  and  we're  looking  for  a 
livelier  crowd  to-night  from  over  the  Texas  line.  A  dis- 
patch has  been  sent  there,  and  they'll  be  here  to-night  by 
the  Bayou  Prince  road.  Maybe  they'll  have  a  brush  with 
the  darkies  down  below  before  they  get  here,  to  whet  their 
appetites  for  more  fun." 

**  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

*^  Why,  word  came  just  now  that  Levi  Adams  has  gath- 
ered up  a  gang  of  negroes  down  the  river  on  the  other  side, 
and  has  seized  all  the  flats  and  threatens  to  burn  and  rob 
and  kill  generally,  in  revenge  for  the  niggers  hung  here  and 
the  darkies  and  the  Radicals  we've  got  jugged." 

**  An  exaggerated  report,  of  course." 

**No,  I  reckon  it's  true.  Adams  is  a  smart  darky;  a 
leader  among  the  negroes.  They  are  stirred  up  to  a  perfect 
ferment  with  the  news  of  the  armed  men  in  Cohatchie  and 
the  arrestin'  and  hangin'.  They  may  do  damage,  though 
there's  only  a  few  white  families  down  there  now.  All 
have  come  into  Cohatchie  that  could  get  away.  The  fel- 
low that  brought  the  news  is  staying  at  the  Vincents'.  He 
says  they  are  all  sick  there.  He  came  to  get  medicine,  but 
Alver  will  not  give  him  a  permit  to  return.  He  has  ar- 
rested him  and  put  him  under  guard  for  disorderly  con- 
duct. The  fellow  had  taken  a  dram  or  two,  and  was  a  little 
noisy  and  talkative — that  was  all.  I  can't  make  out  why 
Alver  had  him  taken  up. " 

*^I  can,"  said  Floyd.     *^I  know  who  the  man  is,  and 


WILD   WORK.  259 

why  be  was  arrested.  I  thought  we  had  got  rid  of  both 
those  fellows.  If  they  can't  be  forced  to  quit  the  parish, 
they  ought  to  be  scared  into  holding  their  tongues." 

Floyd  gave  not  a  thought  to  the  distress  and  possible 
danger  of  the  Vincents,  who  had  been  so  kind  to  her.  She 
only  thought:  "If  the  negroes  do  commit  any  violence 
there,  all  the  better  for  my  scheme ;  all  the  more  color  will 
be  given  to  the  pretext  we  are  to  render  for  the  steps  that 
have  been  taken."  But  another  thought  came  into  her 
mind  : 

*'Have  any  of  the  men  been  sent  down  in  that  direc- 
tion ?  "  she  asked. 

"None;  and  it  will  be  wondered  at  that  nobody  has 
been  sent  to  the  very  quarter  where  it  was  first  reported 
a  riot  was  gathering.     It's  an  oversight." 

"Yes,  parties  must  ride  down  there  to-morrow." 
"By  that  time,"  she  thought,  "it  is  safe  to  suppose  the 
negroes  will  have  made  some  demonstration." 

They  had  spoken  low,  but  eyes  were  turning  in  their  di- 
rection, and  she  moved  away  with  her  pitcher.  She  turned 
back  to  ask : 

"  Have  you  seen  Colonel  Alver  ?  " 
"  Only  for  a  moment." 

''I  see  him  coming  this  way.     Mind  what  I  have  told 
you,  not  one  word  to  him  of  what  will  happen  to-morrow." 
"I  shall  mind;   but,  between  us  now,  does  he  not 
know?" 

"  He  does  not.  He  may  suspect,  but,  if  he  does,  he  has 
not  said  so  even  to  me.  Let  it  be  so  ;  we  do  not  need  his 
help.  You  have  seen  that  the  intentions  he  has  expressed 
concerning  the  prisoners  are  peaceable." 

"Hell's  paved  with  such  peaceable  intentions,"  mut- 
tered the  desperado  with  an  unbelieving  grin  as  he  turned 
away. 

12 


200  WILD   WORK. 

It  was  growing  dusk — ^nearly  time  for  his  rendezvous 
with  the  men  he  had  picked  out  to-day  with  his  sharp  eye. 
The  crowd  was  gathering  more  densely  around  the  place 
of  the  prisoners'  confinement.  Voices,  clashing  together, 
rose  from  the  dark  mass  moving  there  in  the  wonderful, 
clear  light  of  the  full  midsummer  moon  that  surely  never 
shone  so  brilliantly  as  on  this  night  and  the  one  succeeding. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

At  midnight  on  the  night  of  the  Cohatchie  ball  Zoe 
had  not  closed  her  eyes.  She  was  sitting  up  with  her 
brother.  His  fever  was  yet  unbroken,  and,  restless  and 
partially  delirious,  he  required  constant  watching.  Her 
sister-in-law  was  wakeful  and  nervous  ;  the  children's  sleep 
was  broken,  and  they  called  upon  her  frequently.  She  was 
worn  with  anxiety  and  fatigue ;  her  little,  delicately-feat- 
ured face,  usually  so  vividly  tinted,  rose  colorless  as  a  mag- 
nolia from  her  dark  wrapper  as  she  sat  by  her  brother's 
bed.  A  tap  fell  upon  the  door,  and  Dan  Nolan  came  in, 
carrying  the  little  metal  tea-pot  that  belonged  in  his  room. 

" I  can't  sleep,"  he  said.  "I've  come  to  ask  you  to  let 
me  sit  up  with  your  brother  while  you  take  some  rest.  I've 
brought  some  hot  tea  of  my  own  making.  Drink  a  cup  of 
it ;  it  will  refresh  you  ;  and  lie  down  a  little,  Miss  Zoe.  I 
will  do  all  that's  necessary  here." 

''You  ?"  said  Zoe.  "You  look  like  it.  You  look  as 
bloodless  as  a  ghost,  and  you  can  hardly  stand.  How  did 
you  manage  to  make  this  tea  ?  Thanks  for  it ;  it's  just 
what  I  wanted.  But  I  can't  permit  you  to  turn  nurse  so 
soon  ;  you  need  nursing  still  yourself." 

"  But  I  can't  sleep  a  moment  longer.     I  had  a  dream— 


WILD    WORK.  261 

such  a  dream  !  My  God  !  I  wish  my  life  had  always  been 
as  innocent  as  yours,  young  lady.  Let  me  sit  here  ;  I  won't 
feel  so  alone.  This  still  moonlight  night  seems  full  of  hor- 
ror to  me.  Somehow  I'm  a  little  uneasy  about.-Jim.  If 
anything  should  happen  to  him,  just  let  them — ^but  I'm 
talking  too  much  in  a  sick  room.  Give  me  the  fan, 
Miss  Zoe.  There,  go  and  lie  down.  Rest,  if  you  can't 
sleep." 

He  was  persistent,  and,  giving  him  a  few  low  directions, 
she  went  into  the  next  room  and  threw  herself  across  the 
foot  of  the  bed  in  which  the  two  younger  children  were 
sleeping.  She  rested  there  an  hour  ;  the  clock  striking  one 
aroused  her. 

Sitting  up,  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse  being  ridden 
around  to  the  rear  gate.  She  went  out  softly  on  the  back 
piazza,  where  she  found  Dan  already  standing. 

"It's  Jim,"  he  said.  "Hear  that  everlasting  whistle  ! 
Your  brother's  asleep.  I'll  caution  Jim  not  to  make  a 
noise.  I  believe  I'll  go  out  to  him  and  hear  the  news  from 
this  queer  ball." 

He  staggered  as  he  descended  the  steps,  so  weak  had 
he  been  left  by  that  fearful  loss  of  blood.  Zoe  came  to  his 
side. 

"Lean  on  me,"  she  said,  "I  too  am  eager  to  hear  what 
has  happened  to-night." 

"  What  news,  kagen  ?  "  *  Dan  asked  as  Jim  Nolan  threw 
himself  from  the  horse. 

"Gay,"  was  the  answer.  "Gay,  I  tell  you.  I  came 
nigh  not  getting  back.  If  I  had  waited  until  morning  I 
couldn't  have  come  at  all." 

"Why?" 

"  Why,  the  town  is  under  martial  law  by  order  of  Com- 

*  Creole  term — contraction  of  Acadian. 


262  W^LD    WORK. 

mander-in-Cliief  Alver.  .  He's  worked  things  round  to  suit 
him,  after  all." 

"Was  there  any  disturbance  ?" 

"  One  reported  down  this  way.  Haven't  you  seen  any- 
thing of  it  ?  Fellow  burst  into  the  ball-room,  wet  as  a 
drowned  rat  and  white  as  a  sheet,  declarin'  the  niggers 
were  in  arms  down  here  and  had  fired  a  dozen  bullets  at  him 
as  he  came  along.  Then  the  pot  bubbled  over.  Alver  issued 
his  orders  sharp  and  quick  as  a  rattling  artillery  match, 
the  boys  mounted  and  patrolled  the  town,  a  negro  fired  at 
one  and  wounded  him,  and  got  arrested  with  a  lot  of  other 
darkies.  Some  of  'em  will  swing  to-morrow,  and  the  Rads 
too,  I  reckon.  They  are  all  to  be  arrested.  There'll  be 
lively  times.  I  say,  Dan,  what  a  cursed  piece  of  luck  it 
was  that  I  should  have  given  you  that  tap  on  the  head  ! 
Wam't  for  that  we  could  have  lots  of  fun,  and  some  profit 
too,  to-morrow.     It'll  be  better  than  Coif — " 

"  Hush  ! "  ordered  his  brother,  sternly.  *'  How  did  yoU 
manage  to  get  out  ?"  he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"Pretended  me  and  old  gray  was  lightning  express, 
carrying  a  dispatch  to  Malta.  Alver  sent  messengers  every- 
where. Two  niggers — one  a  darky  constable  and  the  other 
a  sub  in  the  post-office — crawled  out  through  the  guard 
somehow  and  crossed  the  river  just  now  when  I  did.  Levi 
Adams  met  them  down  there  in  the  road,  and  they  told 
him  the  news — such  a  tale  as  you  never  heard  !  They  de- 
clared every  nigger  in  Cohatchie  was  arrested  and  certain 
to  be  hung,  and  that  the  whites  were  coming  in  full  force 
to-morrow  to  kill  out  the  whole  race  of  blacks.  ^  There's 
nothin'  for  us  but  to  take  to  the  swamp,'  whined  the  brave 
constable.  'Let  me  see  you  do  it,'  growled  Levi.  'I'll 
shoot  the  first  sneak  that  runs  to  the  swamp.  If  we've  got 
to  be  killed,  let's  fight  to  the  last  and  die  like  men.'  That 
fellow's  got  Injun  blood  in  him,  Dan.     No  nigger  was  ever 


WILD    WORK.  263 

so  plucky.  He  took  the  two  darkies  off  to  liis  house,  and 
I'll  wager  they're  concocting  some  deyilment  right  now.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Levi  got  up  a  gang  and  did  mis- 
chief here  to-morrow.  He's  got  a  fair  chance  ;  white  men 
all  in  Cohatchie,  and  can't  get  out." 

*^"What  would  become  of  us?"Zoe  uttered,  dismayed 
at  the  thought  of  the  helplessness  of  herself  and  her  bro- 
ther's family. 

"Don't  mind  his  croaking,  Miss  Vincent.  Get  to  roost, 
you  raven  of  ill-omen.  Put  up  your  horse,  and  then  to  bed. 
You,  too,  Miss  Zoe,  go  and  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep  ;  I  will 
watch  the  rest  of  the  night  with  your  brother." 

The  next  day  dawned  upon  Zoe's  unsleeping  eyes,  and 
before  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  signs  of  unusual  commo- 
tion showed  themselves. 

From  the  east  window  of  her  little  upper  room  she  saw 
across  the  level,  intervening  fields  her  neighbors  on  the 
right  moving  about  the  house  and  yard,  and  saw  a  trunk 
carried  out  to  a  carryall,  that  with  mules  attached  to  it 
stood  before  the  gate.  She  hurried  across  the  passage  into 
the  other  room.  There  from  the  west  window  she  saw  simi- 
lar preparations  going  on  at  the  tall,  dark-looking  house 
in  which  lived  her  neighbors  on  the  left  nearly  half  a  mile 
away,  but  plainly  to  be  seen  across  those  level,  low-lying 
fields.  Before  this  gate  stood  two  saddled  horses,  and  a 
cart  and  horse. 

A  halloo  startled  her.  She  hastened  down  and  found  a 
man  on  horseback — the  nephew  of  her  neighbor  on  the 
right — standing  at  the  gate.  She  ran  out  to  him  bare- 
headed, and  was  informed  that  they  were  all  going  to  Co- 
hatchie for  protection,  as  it  was  feared  there  would  be 
trouble  with  the  negroes.  If  Mr.  Vincent's  folks  wished 
to  move,  now  was  the  time.  There  would  soon  be  left  no- 
body but  negroes  to  help  them  cross  in  the  flat,  and  it  was 


204  WJLD    WOBK. 

doubtful  if  the  negroes  would  help.  They  were  getting 
more  sullen  and  impudent  every  minute. 

*^But  my  brother  and  sister  are  ill;  we  can  not  go," 
Zoe  exclaimed. 

The  young  man  said  that  was  bad.  He  was  sorry,  but 
didn't  see  what  could  be  done. 

"Will  you  not  have  the  kindness  to  report  our  case  to 
Colonel  Alver  ?  I  hear  he  has  charge  of  everything  in  Co- 
hatchie,  and  ask  him  to  send  us  some  assistance  ?  " 

"  Y-e-s,"  doubtfully,  **I  can  tell  him,  but,  as  Vincent 
don't  belong  to  the  White  League,  I  don't  know  if  Colonel 
Alver'll  bother  himseK  about  it  ?  " 

Pride  overpowered  Zoe's  apprehension. 

**Well,"  she  said,  *'you  need  not  trouble  yourself," 
and  she  turned  and  left  him  without  asking  for  any  of  the 
information  he  was  burning  to  impart. 

She  watched  them  all  go.  By  nine  o'clock  the  four 
planters  living  near  her  had  all  crossed  the  river  with  their 
families,  and  were  making  their  way  to  Cohatchie.  Groups 
of  negroes  stood  on  the  bank  watching  them.  When  the 
flat  came  back  the  last  time,  pulled  over  by  a  negro  who 
had  been  well  paid,  Levi  Adams  rode  down  the  bank  and 
fastened  the  flat  to  a  strong  tree  by  its  chain,  and  a  padlock 
that  he  took  from  his  pocket. 

Hours  passed.  The  stillness  and  brightness  of  the  sum- 
mer day  lay  all  around  her.  A  soft  breeze  rippled  the 
fields  of  green  cotton  and  stirred  the  tops  of  the  great 
swamp-forest  lying  back  of  the  cultivated  front  lands. 
The  white  grossbeaks,  flying  back  to  the  low,  fish-filled 
bayous,  were  the  only  specks  that  dotted  the  deep  blue  of 
the  sky.  It  seemed  hard  to  realize  that  any  catastrophe 
was  at  hand.  Zoe  strove  to  conceal  her  anxiety  from  her 
sister,  but  she  had  heard  enough  of  what  was  going  on  to 
throw  her  into  a  nervous  state,  alarming  in  her  situation. 


WILD    WORK,  265 

Then,  too,  it  was  Hugh's  bad  day.  The  disease — a  bilious 
disorder — grew  worse  every  alternate  day;  and  now  the 
fever  rose  to  its  climax,  and  his  symptoms  became  so  vio- 
lent that  Zoe  was  glad  to  accept  Dan's  proposal  to  send  his 
brother  for  medicine  or  a  doctor,  giving  him  a  note  explain- 
ing the  urgent  nature  of  the  case.  The  only  three  flats  in 
the  neighborhood  had  been  seized  by  the  negroes,  but  Zoe 
remembered  a  little  skiff,  or  rather  ^^  dug-out,"  that  it  was 
likely  they  had  not  thought  worth  while  to  sink  or  fasten. 
"  It  lies  in  a  little  nook  in  the  bank  of  Bayou  Vincey,  just 
where  the  bayou  empties  in  the  river.  You  can  shoot 
across  in  it  like  an  arrow,"  she  said. 

"  I'll  go,  and  come  back  too,  if  they  don't  put  a  ring  of 
bayonets  round  me.  Dan,  old  fellow,  take  care  of  your- 
self. I  don't  like  to  leave  you  here,  and  you  so  weak.  But 
I  s'pose  it  can't  be  helped.    Good-by,"  and  he  walked  away. 

Eiding  was  out  of  the  question.  He  must  cross  in  the 
narrow  dug-out,  and  he  must  take  his  chances  to  slip  out 
of  Cohatchie  unobserved. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Jim  Nolan  had  not  been  gone  an  hour  before  Zoe  re- 
gretted having  permitted  him  to  leave.  It  was  hardly 
likely  he  would  be  able  to  get  out  of  Cohatchie,  and  he  was 
all  the  dependence  they  had  in  case  the  negroes  should 
really  attack  them,  for  Dan  had  not  strength  to  offer  any 
but  the  feeblest  resistance.  Besides,  her  brother  grew 
better.  The  fever,  having  risen  to  its  greatest  intensity, 
began  to  cool,  and  a  deep  sleep  settled  upon  his  restless 
limbs  and  disordered  brain.  The  crisis  was  past.  Zoe, 
who  had  so  frequently  seen  diseases  of  this  type,  knew  that 


266  WILD   WORK. 

the  danger  was  over.  She  left  his  eldest  child — a  sweet 
little  girl  of  twelve — to  sit  by  his  bed  and  brush  away  the 
flies,  while  she  went  out  for  a  little  change  into  the  orchard. 
Standing  there,  with  the  great  pear  and  apple-trees  over- 
head, and  the  grass  and  clover  under  foot,  she  heard  the 
young  mocking-birds  twittering  in  their  nests  above  her, 
and  saw  the  yellow  wasps  and  brown  bees  feasting  on  the 
red  pulp  of  the  over-ripe  figs  and  peaches  that  lay  in  the 
grass.  The  orchard  was  only  a  narrow  space ;  the  rich 
cotton  lands  were  grudgingly  spared  to  mere  fruit  or  flow- 
ers, and  fields  of  the  favorite  staple  pushed  up  close  around 
the  little  inclosure  set  apart  for  Pomona.  Up  to  the  very 
paling,  covered  with  vines  of  wild  morning-glory  and  trum- 
pet flower,  grew  the  wide-branched  cotton,  taller  than  a 
man's  head,  and  clustered  thickly  with  blooms  and  bolls. 

Through  those  thick  cotton  rows  came  the  rustle  of 
some  one  approaching.  A  negro  emerged  from  the  mass 
of  green,  glanced  furtively  around,  and  then,  coming  close 
to  the  paling,  beckoned  her  to  approach.  She  knew  him 
well.  He  was  the  husband  of  her  brother's  cook,  and  she 
had  been  kind  to  him  and  his  family  in  various  ways. 
She  had  always  thought  him  a  humble,  stupidly  inoffen- 
sive creature ;  what  had  changed  the  look  of  his  face  so 
completely  ?  His  expression  now  was  a  mixture  of  cunning 
and  insolence.  Deceit  ill  concealed  the  elation  that  lit  his 
usually  dull,  pig-like  eye. 

As  Zoe  approached  he  asked  : 

"What  did  you  send  that  white  fellow  up  to  Cohatchie 
for?" 

"  On  my  own  business,"  Zoe  answered,  shortly,  for  his 
manner  was  hardly  respectful. 

^'No  use  flyin'  off  de  handle.  I  jest  wanted  to  tell  you 
you  needn't  look  for  him  back.  If  he  gits  out  of  Co- 
hatchie 'twon't  do  him  no  good.    Levi  already  sen'  over  and 


WILD    WORK.  2G7 

got  de  dug-out  what  he  stole  to  cross  in,  and  we've  got  a 
watch  all  along  de  river." 

^'  What  is  that  for  ?  What  is  it,  Tom,  that  you  negroes 
intend  to  do  ?  " 

*^  I  ain't  said  we  niggers  is  goin'  to  do  nothin'." 

'*  I  am  glad  you  are  not.  I  thought  you  had  more  sense 
than  to  attempt  any  riot,"  she  answered,  pretending  indiffer- 
ence and  moving  away.  Her  assumed  carelessness  had  the 
desired  effect.     It  made  him  more  eager  to  impart  the  news. 

"You  don't  understan'.  Niggers  ain't  goin'  to  do 
nothin',  "  he  said,  '^but  colored  men  is  tired  of  bein'  tram- 
pled on,  and  is  goin'  to  make  a  defense  if  no  more.  No 
sense  you  say,  hey  ?  You  think  'twould  be  sense,  though, 
to  set  down  here  and  let  de  white  folks  shoot  and  hang  us 
like  dey  done  Mose  Clark  las'  week,  and  Saul  and  Peter  in 
Oohatchie  dis  morning,  and  de  Lord  knows  how  many 
more  by  dis  time.  AVord  come  to  us  a  month  ago  dat  dis 
rumpus  was  gwine  to  be.  Strange  man  'splained  it  to  us. 
God  showed  it  to  him  in  his  dreams,  and  told  him  to  tell 
us  wx  must  stand  stiff  or  we'd  be  run  over  and  trampled 
out.  We  must  hold  our  own,  or  we'd  be  buzzard  meat 
afore  we  know  it.  But  we  jes'  went  on  and  didn't  pay 
much  ^tention  till  dey  begun  to  fire  in  our  windows  an' 
down  our  chimleys,  an'  Uncle  Mose  Clark  was  shot  in  his 
tracks,  an'  den  we  begin  to  git  worked  up,  and  had  meetins 
to  talk  over  what  we  mus'  do,  and  of  a  sudden  we  hear 
dis  news  from  Cohatchie  ;  soldiers  pourin'  in,  hangin'  and 
'restin'  dere,  and  coming  down  here  to  kill  out  our  race. 
We  made  up  a  comp'ny  las'  night.  I'm  a  ossifer — named 
a  Cuppural.  AYe're  gwine  to  stan'  up  fur  our  rights  if  dey 
come  over  here  atter  us,  and  we're  goin'  to — but  you'll 
know  about  dat  soon  enough.  Only,  I  hear  say  you're 
packin'  up  your  jewelry  and  money,  and  goin'  to  try  to  git 
away  through  de  swamp  by  de  Bayou  Prince  road,  and  I 


268  WILD    WORE. 

thought  I  may  as  well  tell  you  'tain't  no  use.  Levi  ain't 
agoin^  to  let  no  waggin  start  from  dis  gate.  Our  folks  is 
scattered  all  through  de  swamji,  and  ef  you  got  in  there 
they'd  stop  you  soon  nuff.  You  couldn't  get  away  in  time, 
neither,  ef  you  had  a  chance." 

''In  time  ?  Tom  Ludd,  tell  me  what  you  mean.  Is 
there  an  attack  to  be  made  on  the  white  people  here  ?  " 

^'  You'll  see  in  'n  hour  from  now." 

*'  Are  they  coming  here  ?  " 

''Of  course,  de  fust  place.  Bound  to  have  shot  and 
powder  and  guns,  and  dey's  in  that  store  of  your  brndder's 
yonder,  and  two  barrels  er  whisky  'long  wid  'em." 

"Are  you  coming  to  the  house  ?" 

"Bound  to  sack  and  burn  every  house  from  here  down 
to  Bronn's  store.     Dat's  de  word  Levi  give  out." 

"  Are  you  goin'  to  kill  as  you  go  ?  " 

"What  else  ought  we  to  do  to  pay  for  what's  been  done 
to  us  ?  "Worst  we  could  do  wouldn't  be  nuff,  Levi  says. 
He's  goin'  to  tell  'em  to  jes'  go  ahead ;  do  as  you  was  done 
by." 

"  A  crime  done  by  some  outlaw  ought  not  to  be  revenged 
on  innocent  men  and  women.  You  would  let  them  come 
here  to  burn  and  kill  us  after  all  the  kindness  we  have 
shown  you,  Tom  Ludd  ?  You  said  I  saved  your  child's 
life  when  it  had  spasms  two  weeks  ago ;  is  this  the  return 
you  make  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  help  what  dey  do  ?  I'm  a  ossifer  for  true, 
but  Levi's  our  head ;  we  must  go  by  what  he  says.  He 
'lows  nobody  to  interfere.  I'm  sorry  for  you  all,  and  I'll 
try  to  save  your  lives  ef  I  can  keep  de  giddy-headed  ones 
back ;  but  dat'll  be  hard  to  do  after  dey've  got  to  de 
whisky  in  de  store." 

"  They  shan't  get  that.  I'll  stave  in  the  heads  of  the 
barrels  mj^self." 


WILD    WORK,  269 

His  eyes  sparkled  with  malicious  triumph. 

"  Like  to  see  you  do  it !  Levi's  got  a  guard  over  de 
store.  When  you  go  round  to  de  front  dere  you  can  look 
over  and  see  three  cullurd  men  wid  guns  settin'  on  de 
store  porch." 

Zoe  clasped  her  hands  together — an  involuntary  gesture 
of  distress  and  perplexity.  The  negro  eyed  her,  well  satis- 
fied, a  gleam  of  cunning  in  his  face.  He  came  near  the 
paling. 

"  'Twould  be  mighty  bad  for  you  women  and  Vincent's 
little  gal  ef  de  men  come  over  to  you  half  drunk,  as  dey 
will  do.  I'll  tell  you  what,  I'll  do  my  best  to  keep  'em 
away— or  to  git  'em  jes'  to  rob  de  house  and  let  you  'lone. 
I'll  do  it  ef  you'll  give  me  your  gold  watch  and  chain  and 
ten  dollars  beforehand;  yes,  and  your  gold  bracelet  wid 
de  red — " 

He  was  so  intent  he  did  not  hear  the  panther-like  step 
behind  him. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  interrupted  a  voice, 
strong  and  harsh  but  not  loud — Levi's  peculiar  voice  ;  and 
as  the  frightened  "  Cuppural  "  turned  round  he  confronted 
the  tall  form  and  scornful  face  of  his  leader. 

**Blabbin'  and  boastin' — as  it's  your  trade  to  do — you 
thick-headed  fool.  Clear  out  from  here,  and  git  to  your 
business. " 

Tom  slunk  away,  grumbling  inaudibly.  Levi  came  up 
to  the  paling,  his  tall,  straight  form  towering  above  it,  his 
gun  on  his  shoulder,  a  pistol  and  a  huge  bowie-knife  in  his 
rough  leather  belt.  His  saturnine  face  was  lit  with  sup- 
pressed excitement ;  a  sneer  curled  his  mouth  as  he  watched 
Zoe.  His  face  and  form,  instinct  with  savage  power,  filled 
her  with  terror. 

**  Levi,"  she  said,  "what  is  this  you  are  going  to  do  ?  " 

"The  long-tongued  fool  told  you,  I  reckon." 


270  WILD   WORK. 

"Surely  it's  not  true  that  you  mean  to  rob  and  destroy 
the  few  helpless  whites  left  here  ?  " 

"You'll  see  for  yourself  what  I'm  going  to  do  in  less 
than  an  hour.  My  men  are  back  there  in  the  swamp,  ready 
for  anything.  They  remember  Mose  Clark,  and  they  think 
of  their  own  color  lyin'  in  the  jail  up  yonder  and  swinging 
to  the  trees  to  feast  the  buzzards." 

"  That  was  because  one  of  them  shot  a  man,  and  be- 
cause the  negroes  had  planned  a  riot. " 

"  Who  swung  when  Mose  Clark  was  shot  ?  And  it's 
not  true  any  riot  was  planned.  I'd  a  known  of  it,  wouldn't 
I  ?  I'd  a  been  around  Cohatchie  the  night  of  the  ball. 
'Twas  a  got-up  thing,  that  is  what  it  was.  But  now,  since 
we've  had  the  blame,  we'll  have  the  game.  We'll  not  dis- 
appoint 'em.  But  I've  no  time  to  waste.  I  come  to  git 
the  key  to  your  brother's  store.     WiU  you  give  it  to  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  All  right,  we  want  to  be  civil ;  but  there's  other  ways 
of  gettin'  in. " 

"  Levi,  can  it  be  that  you,  whom  we  have  never  harmed, 
would  bring  a  mob  of  drunken  negroes  into  my  brother's 
house  and  turn  them  loose  on  him  and  his  helpless  wife 
and  children  ?  Would  you  be  so  cruel  ?  You  have  more 
sense  than  your  fellows;  you  have  complete  power  over 
them.     0  Levi !  could  you  use  your  power  so  wickedly  ?  " 

"'Twa'n't  cruel  to  hang  Saul  and  Peter  this  morning 
without  fair  trial  ?  'Tain't  cruel  to  kill  the  Radicals  or 
drive  'em  out  of  the  country  because  they're  friends  to  us  ? 
Why  don't  you  look  at  that  ?  My  men  shall  do  what  they 
like.     If  any's  killed,  it's  only  tit  for  tat." 

"  One  who  would  murder  sick  men  and  helpless  women 
is  a  fiend  and  a  coward,"  Zoe  exclaimed,  vehemently. 

He  turned  on  her  glaring. 

"You'll  repent  that,"  he  muttered.     Then,  as  he  still 


WILD    WORK.  271 

looked  at  her,  **  You  hate  us,  you  white-skinned  women," 
he  said.  '*  You  speak  to  us  kindly  as  you  do  to  dogs,  but 
you  scringe  if  we  chance  to  come  close  to  you.  It  would 
do  me  good  to  humble  you  ;  to  see  you  kneel  to  me.  I'll 
see  it,  too,  before  another  sun  shall  set,  my  pretty  one." 

He  laughed  sardonically  at  the  white  horror  his  words 
brought  into  her  face.  Still  laughing  his  low,  Indian-like 
chuckle,  he  strode  way. 

Zoe  stood  where  he  left  her — fear  and  perplexity  seem- 
ing to  root  her  to  the  spot. 

"  What  can  I  do  ? "  was  the  ever-recurring  thought. 
"  There  are  none  within  reach  to  apply  to,  no  one  to  send 
if  there  was.  Escape  is  impossible  ;  resistance  out  of  our 
power.  Jim  Nolan  can  not  come ;  his  brother  is  not  able  to 
make  any  continued  exertion.  What  must  be  done  ?  I 
have  no  one  that  I  can  go  to  with  this  dreadful  news  but 
Dan  Nolan.  He  may  be  a  thief  and  a  murderer  himself  ; 
he  acknowledges  that  he  is  a  criminal,  but  he  is  all  I  have 
to  look  to  for  help  and  advice." 

She  started  for  the  house,  and  stojiped  as  she  saw  young 
Nolan  coming  toward  her. 

'* What's  the  matter?  What's  happened?"  he  ex- 
claimed as  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  her  face.  In  a  few 
words  she  told  him  what  she  had  just  heard. 

"  Why  on  earth  didn't  you  call  me  when  that  fellow 
Levi  was  talking  to  you  ?  I'd  a  put  a  bullet  in  his  smart 
body  and  put  a  stop  to  all  of  it.  It's  his  getting  up.  The 
first  thing  we  must  do  is  to  go  over  to  the  store,  burst 
open  the  whisky  barrels,  and  throw  the  powder  and  shot  in 
the  river." 

"Too  late,"  she  said  ;  "look  there." 

They  had  walked  to  a  point  where  they  could  see  a  part 
of  the  store-front.  Three  negroes  with  guns  sat  on  the 
porch  watching  them. 


272  TT/ZZ)    WOEK. 

"  I  could  take  'em  off  one  after  the  other  with  my  re- 
peater," Dan  cried. 

''No,  you  must  not,"  Zoe  interrupted,  quickly.  *^  It 
would  hasten  the  attack  and  make  them  more  savage. 
There  are  plenty  others  to  supply  the  places  of  those  if  you 
killed  them.  Look  at  that  head  above  the  cotton  !  There 
are  spies  all  around  us." 

**  I  see  only  this  to  be  done.  Go  and  get  up  your  valu- 
ables and  put  them  in  the  securest  place  you  can  think 
of.  Tell  your  sister  a  part  of  what  you  apprehend,  and 
tell  your  brother  if  he  is  conscious.  Let  Mrs.  Vincent, 
you  and  the  children,  get  into  the  small  room  where  your 
brother  lies.  I  will  bolt  the  doors  and  windows  as  strong- 
ly as  I  can.  Then  I  will  make  the  outer  room  secure, 
and  take  my  stand  there  with  all  the  guns  and  pistols 
the  house  ajffords.  A  good  number  of  the  wretches  will 
have  to  bite  the  dust  before  they  get  to  you.  Does  that 
suit?" 

"  In  all  except  that  I  will  stay  with  you.  I  can  load, 
and  I  can  shoot  a  little.  A  well  woman  ought  to  be  nearly 
as  good  as  a  sick  man." 

She  spoke  more  hopefully  than  she  felt.  She  followed 
out  Dan's  suggestions,  but  she  worked  with  a  heavy  heart. 
She  put  the  money  and  jewelry  and  important  papers  into  a 
small  iron  box,  and,  as  there  was  no  chance  to  bury  it  outside 
with  all  those  spies  around,  she  hit  upon  the  expedient  of 
putting  it  on  a  board  that  fitted  into  the  dining-room  chim- 
ney, and  pushing  the  board  so  far  up  the  flue  as  to  be 
almost  out  of  reach.  Even  if  the  house  is  burned  these 
may  not  be  destroyed,  she  thought ;  chimneys  are  often 
left  standing.  Her  brother  was  awake  and  conscious.  His 
little  daughter  was  feeding  him  with  soup.  Zoe's  heart  was 
almost  broken  when  the  girl  turned  her  innocent,  rose-bud 
face  to  her,  smiling  as  she  announced  that  papa  had  swal- 


WILD    WORK,  273 

lowed  six  spoonfuls  of  soup.  What  a  fate  might  soon  over- 
take that  lovely  child  ! 

But  Zoe  would  not  give  way.  She  nerved  herself  with 
all  the  courage  that  was  in  her.  Very  composedly  she  told 
her  brother  and  sister  that  she  had  some  reason  to  fear  an 
attack  from  a  few  excited  negroes.  It  was  possible  her 
fears  were  ungrounded,  but  she  thought  it  better  to  take 
precautions  and  fasten  the  doors  and  windows  securely. 
Her  quiet  manner  had  its  effect,  and  injurious  agitation 
was  in  a  great  measure  forestalled. 

When  all  was  done  that  could  be,  she  went  into  the 
outer  room  where  Dan  had  just  finished  loading  the  guns 
and  pistols.  He  was  whistling  gayly  ;  he  looked  as  if  the 
danger  was  an  elixir  to  hifn.  He  expressed  no  regret, 
except  that  Jim  was  not  here  to  share  the  fun. 

Zoe  went  to  the  door.  The  afternoon  sun  steeped  the 
luxuriant  landscape  in  light  and  heat.  The  cicala  sung 
in  the  shade  of  the  tall  grass,  the  silver-winged  grossbeaks 
floated  dreamlike  across  the  sky.  All  was  quiet  and  at 
rest ;  nothing  indicative  of  violence  except  those  three  men 
with  guns  lying  on  the  gallery  of  the  store,  and  negroes 
with  guns  had  often  lounged  there  before. 

*^  Do  you  see  any  sign  of  anything  wrong  ?"  she  asked. 

'*  Only  this  :  the  negro  women  in  those  tenant  cabins  are 
all  standing  at  their  doors  looking  down  the  river.  They 
know  what  is  coming,  and  from  what  quarter." 

Five  minutes  passed.  Zoe  was  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
piazza.     She  uttered  an  exclamation. 

^'  What  do  you  see,  sister  Ann  ?  The  very  cloud  of 
dust  of  the  Blue  Beard  tale,  on  my  word,"  he  added,  seeing 
that  she  could  not  speak.  "  Courage  !  remember  that  we 
are  to  fight  together.  Don't  let  heroism  ebb  out  of  these 
throbbing  little  veins." 

He  took  her  hand  as  he  spoke.     It  was  cold  as  marble. 


274  WILD  WORK. 

With  strained,  terror-fascinated  eyes  she  watched  the  cloud 
of  dust  that  grew  into  dusky  ranks  of  negroes  rapidly  turn- 
ing the  curve  in  the  road  following  the  river  bend.  Nearer 
they  came.  The  women  at  the  cabin  doors  gave  no  sign, 
but  stood  and  watched,  still  as  statues.  Levi  rode  at  the 
head.  A  few  others  were  mounted,  the  rest  were  on  foot ; 
about  half  of  them  were  armed  with  guns,  the  others  had  va- 
rious weapons.     Some  carried  fish-gigs,  some  axes  and  hoes. 

**Not  more  than  fifty  or  sixty  of  them,"  Dan  said,  run- 
ning his  rapid  eye  down  the  motley  ranks.  "  Not  bad  odds 
to  fight  against  when  you  consider  the  cowardice  of  the 
beast."' 

They  reached  the  store,  and  Levi  ordered  a  halt.  Fling- 
ing himself  from  his  horse  and  giving  his  gun  to  one  of  the 
men,  he  came  alone  toward  the  house.  Zoe  had  already 
retreated  into  the  room  and  fastened  the  door.  Levi  came 
up,  entered  the  gallery,  and,  glancing  haughtily  at  Dan, 
asked  aloud  for  Zoe. 

"She's  within.  What  do  you  want  with  her?  I'm 
here  to  answer  for  her,"  Dan  said,  carelessly  continuing  to 
pull  the  ears  of  Zoe's  pet  dog. 

"You  can't  answer  for  yourself  yet,"  sneered  the  negro 
leader,  and,  striding  past  him,  he  knocked  at  the  door,  call- 
ing out  for  Zoe.  She  opened  the  door  and  stood  before  him 
pale  as  death,  but  calm. 

"  I  am  here,"  she  said.     "  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  evident  surprise  before  he  said  : 

"  First  I  want  the  key  to  the  store  ;  do  you  still  refuse  to 
give  it  up  ?  " 

"  I  do  !  You  may  break  the  store  open  if  you  will.  I 
will  give  you  no  help  to  get  liquor  and  arms  to  use  for  a 
lawless  purpose." 

He  pushed  past  her  and  entered  the  room,  partly  closing 
the  door  upon  him. 


WILD    WORK.  275 

"  I  see  yoti  are  stubborn  and  proud  still,"  he  said.  ''  Do 
you  understand  what  is  about  to  come  to  you  ?  You  are 
here  in  our  power ;  no  help  can  come  to  you  ;  we  have 
things  in  our  own  hands.  In  half  an  hour  this  house  will 
swarm  with  men — niggers,  you  call  them — mad,  drunk, 
furious,  ripe  for  anything.  This  floor  will  run  with  blood, 
the  roof  will  blaze  over  your  head.  With  this  before  you, 
you  hold  a  stiff  neck  still.     You  must  beg  for  mercy. 

"I  have  pleaded  with  you  for  mercy,  I  do  so  again. 
Levi,  as  you  hope  for  pardon  from  God,  do  not  harm  my 
sick  brother  and  his  helpless  wife  and  children  ! " 

"And  you?" 

''Yes,  me  too.  I  love  honor  and  life  too  well  not  to 
plead  with  you  to  spare  me.  Keep  your  men  from  this 
house  ;  do  this,  and  all  the  money  and  jewels  I  have  I  will 
give  to  you." 

"  I  don't  want  your  jewelry,  and  I'll  have  all  the  money 
I  need  before  this  night  is  over.  Your  begging  is  too  luke- 
warm. Kneel  to  me ;  remember,  I  have  your  life,  and 
more,  in  my  power.  Seize  my  hands  here  in  your  soft  palms, 
hug  my  knees  with  your  arms,  look  up  in  my  face  with 
tears  dropping  from  your  eyes.     Kneel  to  me,  I  say." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  eye  that  did  not  quail. 
"No,"  she  said,  "I  wiU  not  humble  myself  to  please  you. 
It  would  be  useless  ;  I  see  that  in  your  face.  Our  doom  is 
sealed.  I  will  not  kneel  to  receive  insult.  Go  ;  I  have  no 
more  to  say  to  you.  I  will  die  by  my  own  hand  before  you 
shall  touch  me." 

Cries  of  "  Bring  on  the  key  "  ;  "  Break  down  the  door," 
came  from  the  mob  at  the  store. 

"  You'll  see  when  the  time  comes,"  he  cried  with  fury 
in  his  looks ;  "  you  shall  feel  my  touch  then.  It  shall 
clamp  you  like  iron." 

He  seized  her  wrist  as  she  said  the  last  words,  his  nails 


276  WILD   WORK. 

pressed  into  her  flesh  till  the  blood  came.  "  Dan  Nolan," 
she  called,  but  not  loudly.  She  heard  the  click  of  Dan's 
pistol  close  to  her.  Suddenly  Levi  Adams  loosed  his  hold 
of  her,  and  leaped  upon  young  Nolan  like  a  tiger-cat,  try- 
ing to  wrench  the  pistol  from  him.  It  went  off  in  the 
struggle.  A  shout  from  the  negroes  on  the  bank  echoed 
the  report.  Zoe  reeled  back  against  the  wall.  "  It  is  all 
over, "  she  thought.  *^  They  will  rush  upon  us  in  a  mo- 
ment." 

The  scuffle  between  the  two  men  ended  in  Levi's  get- 
ting the  pistol  in  his  possession  and  dashing  Nolan  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room.  Once  more  Zoe  heard  the  cries 
of  the  negroes,  but  she  was  too  far  gone  with  terror  to  no- 
tice that  these  cries  differed  from  the  others — to  under- 
stand that  these  confused  exclamations  expressed  alarm  and 
dismay.  Through  a  side  window  she  saw  several  black 
forms  rush  by. 

**They  are  surrounding  the  house,"  was  her  thought. 

But  through  a  back  window  she  caught  glimpses  of  ne- 
groes running  wildly  for  the  swamp,  leaping  the  paling, 
crashing  through  the  tall  cotton.  What  did  it  mean  ?  She 
flew  to  the  front  door.  The  negroes  were  all  gone  from 
the  store,  from  the  river  bank.  She  looked  down  the  road. 
There  she  saw  a  body  of  armed  men  riding  swiftly  toward 
her.  Were  they  more  negroes  ?  No,  thank  God  !  there, 
under  the  dusty  hats,  were  wliite  faces — blessed  white  faces. 

**  We  are  saved  ;  there  are  armed  white  men  coming  to 
our  rescue,"  she  said  to  Dan,  who  had  staggered  to  the  door, 
breathless  from  his  struggle  with  the  negro  bully. 

"Hooray !  they  are  from  the  Texas  line,  some  of  'em, 
I'll  bet,"  cried  the  young  fellow,  with  a  feeble  attempt  at  a 
cheer.  "  They  came  by  the  Bayou  Prince  road.  Jim  said 
Alver  had  sent  messengers  to  Sabine  County." 

Waving  his  old  red  silk  handkerchief,  he  shouted  "  Hoo- 


WILD    WORK,  277 

ray,  boys  ! "  as  loudly  as  lie  could,  as  the  cavalcade  swept 
round  the  last  river  bend  and  came  in  front  of  the  house. 
Neither  he  nor  Zoe  had  noticed  Levi  Adams.  At  first  the 
negro  chief  failed  to  take  in  the  situation.  When  he  did 
comprehend  it,  he  leaped  out  of  the  house  by  the  back  way 
and  strove,  with  voice  and  gesture,  to  stop  the  flight  of  his 
demoralized  band.  He  shouted  to  them  to  hold,  he  cursed 
them,  he  implored  them  to  come  back  and  make  a  stand, 
but  to  no  purpose ;  they  ran  as  only  terrified  negroes  or 
scared  sheep  can  run.  They  had  no  whisky  in  them  to 
impart  a  fictitious  courage.  The  sight  of  all  these  armed 
white  men  rounding  the  bend  in  such  dashing  style  struck 
terror  to  their  souls,  broke  up  their  ranks  as  though  a 
shower  of  shell  from  a  near  battery  had  burst  among  them, 
and  sent  them  helter-skelter  in  a  wild  race  for  the  swamp. 
Levi  saw  that  not  one  would  stand  to  back  him.  He  saw 
the  soldiers  close  to  the  store.  His  horse  stood  there — the 
yellow  mustang  that  carried  him  like  the  wind.  He  made 
a  flying  leap  over  the  palings  ;  a  few  more  bounds  and  he 
reached  his  horse's  side.  He  jumped  into  the  saddle  and 
caught  the  reins.  Too  late  !  Half  a  dozen  horsemen  sur- 
rounded him,  a  dozen  guns  were  pointed  at  him.  He  was 
forced  to  surrender.  Sullen  and  stoical,  his  bronze  face 
unmoved,  he  stood  and  submitted  to  the  tying  of  his 
hands. 

A  guard  was  left  over  him,  and  the  others  hastened  to 
pursue  the  fugitive  negroes.  Just  as  well  hunt  the  "  coon  " 
or  the  "  opossum  "  in  their  woodland  coverts  without  the 
keen-nosed  dog  as  to  hunt  in  these  thick  jungles,  these 
vine-matted  forests,  for  Levi's  scattered  flock.  The  soldiers 
rode  back  an  hour  afterward,  with  only  one  captive — Tom 
Ludd,  the  negro  who  had  undertaken  to  negotiate  with 
Zoe  concerning  her  safety.  Tom's  vanity,  like  Absalom's, 
had  occasioned  his  capture.     Feeling  his  importance  as  an 


278  WILD    WORK, 

*'  ossifer,"  he  had  donned  an  ancient  long-tailed  coat,  and  the 
impalement  of  that  coat  on  the  back  fence  of  the  field  had 
caused  him  to  be  taken  prisoner.  Pitiful  enough  he  looked 
now.  He  was  shaking  with  terror,  his  black  face  had  a 
gray  look,  his  eyes  stood  out  like  a  trapped  rabbit's,  he 
begged  incessantly,  piteously  protesting  his  innocence. 
Levi  flashed  at  him  a  single  look  of  scorn.  "  Hush,  fool," 
he  muttered  in  his  harsh,  guttural  tones. 

The  negro  leader  seemed  to  notice  nothing,  but  not  a 
movement  escaped  his  panther  eye.  He  did  not  seem  to  stir 
in  a  limb,  but  he  had  cunningly  managed  to  untie  the  cord 
that  bound  his  hands  and  was  fastened  to  one  of  his  feet. 
The  sight  of  some  mounted  men  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river  drew  the  attention  of  the  guard,  and.  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  moment,  Levi  made  a  desperate  effort  to  escaj^e. 
With  that  wonderful  agility  none  had  ever  seen  surpassed, 
he  cleared  the  half-circle  of  men  with  a  bound  and  ran  for 
the  swamp.  Before  the  men,  who  had  dismounted,  could 
spring  upon  their  horses,  he  had  reached  the  cotton,  and 
with  bent  head  was  scudding  down  the  rows,  when  a  horse- 
man, who  seemed  chief  of  the  armed  white  party,  came  gal- 
loping from  the  swamp,  and,  riding  before  the  fugitive, 
ordered  him  to  halt.  For  answer,  Levi  snatched  out  a  der- 
ringer he  had  kept  hid  in  his  bosom,  and  fired  it,  the  ball 
gi'azing  the  white  man's  shoulder.  In  an  instant  the  negro 
bully  was  seized  by  an  arm  more  powerful  than  his  own, 
and  the  sharp  click  of  a  pistol  at  his  head  warned  him  to 
be  quiet. 

A  number  of  men  rode  up,  and,  giving  orders  to  '*tie 
the  negro,  take  him  to  the  swamp,  and  make  short  work  of 
him,"  the  horseman  rode  on  to  the  house.  He  was  a  su- 
perb rider,  and,  as  he  removed  his  straw  hat  that  the  wind 
might  cool  his  heated  head,  he  looked  one's  ideal  of  the 
guerrilla  chief;  long-haired,  with  flowing  beard,  a  falcon 


WILD    WORK.  279 

eye,  a  grand  throat,  and  a  broad  chest  and  shoulders,  which 
showed  well  in  the  easy  gray  hunting  shirt. 

He  rode  to  the  store  and  sat  on  his  horse,  looking  at 
the  miserable,  cringing  figure  of  Tom  Ludd.  That  brave 
'^ossifer"  was  calling  God  to  witness  that  he  never  ''had 
no  han'  in  dese  here  wicked  doin's.  He  was  a  peaceable, 
hard-wuckin',  stay-at-home  nigger.  He  was  jes'  stirrin' 
his  wife's  pot  uv  big  hom'ly  before  de  cabin  when  he  seed 
de  soldiers  comin'  and  seen  t'other  niggers  runnin'  for  de 
woods,  and  he,  like  a  skeered  fool,  must  run  too,  and  de 
soldiers  cotch  him  and  think  him  guilty ;  but  it's  all  mis- 
take." 

''But  you  had  a  gun  in  your  hand,"  said  one  of  the 
men. 

"A  gun?— me?" 

"Certainly,  you  had  a  loaded  gun.  What  were  you 
going  to  do  with  that,  you  hypocritical  Ethiopian  ?  " 

"Oh!"  chattered  the  terrified  darky,  forgetting  his 
former  story.  "  I  tell  you  'bout  dat  gun.  I  was  jes'  goin' 
to  de  woods  to  shoot  a  squ'el  for  my  poor,  sick  wife.  Dat's 
all,  my  good  master  ;  'pon  my  sacred  word  and  honor,  and 
I  hope  thunder  strike  me  dead  dis  minite  ef  it  ain't  de  sol- 
ium truth.  Mandy — O-o-o-o  Mandy  ! "  he  called  to  his  wife, 
who,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms,  had  started  from  her  cabin 
toward  him  with  timid,  hesitating  steps,  "come  here  and 
beg  for  your  dear  husband's  life." 

"Now,"  he  went  on  as  she  hurried  up,  crying,  "git 
down  on  your  knees  wid  me  and  beg  dese  good,  kind,  fine- 
looking  gentlemen  to  spare  me  dis  onct  and  dey'U  never 
kotch  me  nowhere  atter  dis,  'cept  in  de  cotton  patch  at  de 
eend  uv  a  hoe.  Jes'  tell  'em  how  it  was.  I  was  stirrin'  de 
hom'ly  pot — no,  I  was  gwine  to  de  woods  to  kill  squ'el  for 
your  soup  case  you  was  delicaty,  and  I  never  had  no  han' 
in  dis  no  mor'n  dat  chile  dere  on  his  mudder's  breast. 


230  WILD    WORK. 

what's  goin'  to  be  lef  'thout  a  pappy  of  you  don't  spar  dis 
poor  innercent  nigger  to  his  restracted  fam'ly." 

This  allusion  to  her  distressed  condition,  and  to  the 
round-faced  baby  that  sucked  its  thumb  serenely  and  stared 
in  big-eyed  pleasure  at  the  scene,  brought  hysterical  sobs 
and  shrieks  from  Mandy.  Tom  encouraged  her  grief  by 
groans. 

*^  Hush  your  screeching  and  get  up  from  here,"  com- 
manded the  man  at  whose  feet  the  pair  had  dropped  upon 
their  knees,  and  whose  commanding  looks  and  the  defer- 
ence shown  him  entitled  him  to  be  thought  Captain  of  the 
party. 

At  this  instant  successive  reports  of  fire-arms  were  heard 
coming  from  some  distance  in  the  swamp.  Echo  sent  them 
back  with  startling  distinctness  from  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river. 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  significantly. 

*^  They've  settled  with  the  nigger  ringleader,"  observed 
one  of  them,  laconically. 

"  Oh !  good  Lord  ! "  howled  Tom  Ludd  in  despair. 
"  Mandy,  run  to  Miss  Zoe  ;  git  her  to  come  here  and  beg  for 
me  ;  run,  Mandy,  ef  you  love  me." 

His  wife  darted  for  the  house.  A  minute  afterward  she 
came  back  and  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  Captain.  He  set 
his  gun  against  the  side  of  the  store  and  followed  her  to  the 
house. 

Zoe,  standing  on  the  front  piazza,  trembled  as  she  leaned 
against  a  post,  her  face  blanched  with  horror.  She  had  just 
understood  the  meaning  of  that  volley  she  had  heard  fired 
in  the  swamp.  Those  shots  had  riddled  the  negi'o  leader, 
an  hour  before  so  exultant  in  strength  and  power.  A  sick- 
ening sensation  overpowered  her.  She  hardly  looked  at 
tlie  man  as  he  came  up  to  her,  his  straw  hat  pulled  over 
his  face. 


WILD    WORK.  281 

"Sir,"  she, said,  "I  sent  for  you  to  entreat  you  to  spare 
that  miserable  negro  yonder.  He  was  led  into  this.  He 
has  not  sense  enough  to  look  to  consequences.  There  are 
extenuating  circumstances  connected  with  this  action  of 
the  negroes  that  should  lead  you  to  be  merciful.  The 
leader  is  killed ;  let  that  suffice,  and  spare  the  life  of  this 
poor,  ignorant  creature.  He  has  always  been  inoffensive 
and  humble  till  to-day." 

"  He  shall  be  spared.  I  would  grant  a  far  greater  re- 
quest to  you.^^ 

She  looked  up  amazed.  He  stood  before  her,  looking 
at  her  with  the  eyes  whose  melancholy  intensity  she  could 
never  forget.     It  was  Hirne. 

*^  I  swore  never  to  come  back,  never  to  see  you  again," 
he  said,  taking  her  hand  and  coming  close  to  her.  **  I 
could  not  help  it.  Fate  draws  irresistibly.  Destiny  must 
be  accomplished.     Are  you  not  married  yet  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  ;  she  could  not  well  have  spoken. 

"  Thank  Fate  for  this  much  !  But  how  pale  you  are, 
sweetest !  You  are  ill,  or  you  have  passed  through  some 
cruel  trial ;  you  have  been  frightened  to  death.  How  glad 
I  am  that  we  came  up  when  we  did  !  How  glad  that  I  hap- 
pened to  get  word  of  this  outbreak  here  !  I  knew  that  you 
lived  here,  and  I  urged  the  men  on  without  a  moment's^ stop- 
ping.    Had  we  been  ten  minutes  later — " 

''Do  not  speak  of  it,"  Zoe  cried,  shuddering.  ''You 
have  saved  our  lives.  The  negroes  were  about  to  break 
open  the  store,  brutalize  themselves  with  liquor,  and  come 
over  here.     My  brother  is  sick,  and  confined  to  his  bed." 

"And  you  without  a  protector  ?  No  wonder  you  are 
pale  as  a  flower  that  the  storm  has  drenched.  But  you  are 
safe  now.  A  part  of  the  men  have  gone  on  to  Cohatchie  ; 
the  others  will  stay  here  and  protect  you.  I  will  stay  if  the 
disturbance  is  quelled  in  Cohatchie.     If  I  might  only  pro- 


282  WILD    WORE. 

tect  you  through  life,"  he  said,  looking  at  hex,  as  though  he 
longed  to  clasp  her. 

**Is  dey  gwine  to  spar'  Tom,  Miss  Zoe  ?"  interposed  a 
piteous  voice  in  the  yard  just  below.  They  had  forgotten 
Mandy.  Hirne  glanced  down  through  the  vines,  and 
laughed  as  he  saw  the  distressed  black  face  and  the  round- 
eyed  baby. 

*'Yes,"  he  said,  '^I  don't  doubt  that  Tom  ought  to 
hang,  but  he  shall  go  free — not  for  his  sake  or  yours,  but 
for  this  lady's  here.  Go  and  make  yourself  easy.  He 
sha'n't  get  his  deserts  this  time,  if  he'll  promise  to  stick  to 
his  hoe,  and  have  no  more  military  aspirations.  Go  and 
cook  all  the  eggs  and  chickens  you've  got,  and  make  any 
number  of  corn  pones  for  my  men.  They  are  hungry  as 
wolves.     Here,  hold  your  apron." 

He  threw  a  handful  of  Mexican  dollars  into  her  lap. 
*'  Get  some  dinner,  or  supper  rather,  quick  as  you  can,  or 
the  soldiers  may  hang  your  Tom  after  all.  Hungry  men 
are  savage." 

*^  It'll  be  hard  to  persuade  the  men  to  set  the  scamp 
free,"  he  said,  as  the  woman  moved  briskly  off.  "Yet  he 
hardly  deserves  to  die — ignorant  tool  that  he  is — put  up  to 
what  he  tried  to  do  by  others.  I  hear  your  citizens  have  ar- 
rested the  parish  officers,  and  are  keeping  them  under  guard. 
Why  did  they  not  hang  them  with  their  negro  dupes  ?  The 
plot  they  tried  to  carry  out  was  a  fiendish  one." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  a  plot  of  the  Eadicals  ?  I  have 
strong  reason  to  think  not. " 

**It  is  hard  for  your  tender  heart  to  believe  that  men 
can  be  so  base,  but  you  do  not  know  their  capacity  for  base- 
ness. If  you  had  my  experience —  !  I  can  not  believe 
that  the  citizens  of  this  parish  will  let  these  men  go  unpun- 
ished, and  there  is  no  punishment  sufficient  for  them  but 
death." 


WILD    WORK.  283 

His  eyes,  that  had  been  so  soft  a  moment  before,  emitted 
a  savage  flash,  his  month  grew  stern  in  an  instant.  Zoe  did 
not  venture  to  pursue  the  subject  then.  She  saw  in  him 
once  more  that  sudden  transition  into  gloomy  fierceness. 
It  was  as  if  he  possessed  two  natures — one  magnanimous 
and  tender,  the  other  bitter,  relentless.  Again  she  said  to 
herself,  "  Some  great  wrong  has  warped  this  noble  nature." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Whek  she  went  in  she  found  her  little  niece  Nelly  deep 
in  consultation  with  Mrs.  Vincent  about  getting  up  a  sump- 
tuous dinner  for  the  men  who  had  so  opportunely  come  to 
their  rescue.  Several  negro  women  stood  by,  eager  to  help, 
as  humble  now  as  they  had  previously  been  insolent.  They 
thought  in  their  hearts  that  "  slave  time  "  had  come  again  ; 
they  did  not  know  but  their  husbands  and  sons  would  be 
hunted  and  shot  down  in  the  swamps  ;  but  all  this  would 
not  prevent  them  from  eating  a  hearty  dinner,  and  enjoy- 
ing a  pipe  or  a  nap  afterward.    Such  is  the  African  nature. 

A  long  table  was  set  on  the  back  piazza,  and  spread  with 
a  varied  abundance — dishes  of  fried  ham  and  eggs,  of  bacon 
and  greens  (the  national  dish),  mounds  of  biscuits  and  po- 
tatoes, a  huge  peach  pie,  baked  fowl,  and  sardines  and 
crackers  from  the  store.  To  this  table  a  part  of  the  hungry 
men  sat  down,  while  the  others  had  their  dinner  on  the 
porch  of  the  store — a  dinner  cooked  in  her  best  style  by 
Mandy,  who  flew  around  with  an  alacrity  born  of  her  anx- 
iety for  Tom.  That  prisoner  had  not  yet  been  released, 
but  his  wife  had  contrived  to  whisper  a  word  of  hope  in  his 
ear.  After  dinner  was  over,  all  being  satisfied  with  what 
they  had  eaten,  Hirne  proposed  to  release  the  cook's  hus- 
13 


284  WILD    WORK. 

band  out  of  compliment  to  his  wife's  skill  and  good-nature, 
adding  that  Tom  was  simply  a  numbskull  who  had  let  him- 
self be  led,  and  was  ready  now  to  swear  on  his  knees  to  his 
future  good  conduct.  Tom  was  set  free,  and  his  voluble 
gratitude  was  ludicrous  to  hear.  He  trotted  off  with  his 
baby  in  his  arms,  the  gladdest  darky  in  the  parish. 

It  was  now  sunset,  and  the  men  who  had  gone  to  Co- 
hatchie  had  not  returned.  The  others  were  eager  to  cross 
the  riyer  and  see  what  had  become  of  their  comrades,  and 
what  was  being  done  in  Cohatchie. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Hirne.  ^'  I  and  four  others  will  be  enough 
to  stay  and  guard  this  place.  I  apprehend  no  further  troub- 
le here.  Send  word  to  me  immediately  what  they  have 
decided  to  do  with  the  carpet-baggers." 

The  men  crossed  the  river,  the  last  red  sunbeam  glint- 
ing on  them  as  they  rode  up  the  bank  on  the  opposite  side. 
The  four  men  who  were  left  sat  talking  and  smoking  on 
the  gallery  of  the  store,  while  the  quiet  dusk  came  down. 

Hirne  went  over  to  the  house.  Zoe  was  sitting  on  a  cool 
little  side-porch,  rocking  to  sleep  the  two-years-old  baby 
which  the  new-comer  had  deposed.  She  was  crooning  softly 
a  cradle-song : 

"  Sleep,  baby,  sleep — 
Thy  rest  shall  angels  keep." 

The  picture  she  made  was  beautiful  to  the  soul  of  the 
man  so  long  used  to  bloody  and  turbulent  scenes.  He  stood 
unseen,  listening  to  the  soothing  strain,  looking  at  the  girFs 
sweet  face,  flecked  with  moonlight  and  leaf-shadows. 

The  sigh  that  escaped  him  betrayed  his  presence.  She 
stopped  singing,  and  asked  him  to  come  in.  He  sat  down 
on  the  steps  at  her  feet.  The  stars  were  coming  out — pale 
in  the  lingering  sunset  radiance. 

^'How  still  and  sweet  it  is  !"  Zoe  said,  breaking  the  si- 


WILD    WORK,  285 

lence.  ^'I  can  hardly  realize  that  a  few  hours  ago  such 
confusion  and  terror  and  such  evil  passions  were  at  work, 
or  that  in  the  woods  yonder,  so  dim  and  solemn  in  the 
moonlight,  lies  a  mangled  human  body  to  bear  witness  to 
the  Yiolence  the  day's  sun  has  shone  upon.  When  will 
such  violence  and  evil  passion  be  done  away  with  ?  We 
see  so  much  of  it  here.  I  am  heart-sick  of  it.  Better  the 
dreamy  monotony  of  a  lotus-land.  But  that  would  be  no 
Eden  to  you  men.  Your  restless  spirits  would  not  endure 
the  quiet.  I  think  men  invented  politics  as  an  excuse  for 
endless  strife. " 

He  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  only  looking  up  into  her 
face,  so  fair  in  the  moonlight.     Then  he  said,  slowly  : 

"  The  nearest  I  knew  of  haiDpiness  for  many  a  day  came 
from  change  and  strife.  But  now,  somehow,  these  fail  to 
quench  the  thirst  in  my  breast.  I  feel  myself  growing  out 
of  taste  for  them.  To-night,  as  I  sit  here,  facing  the  even- 
ing-star, with  your  sweet  hush-a-by  song  in  my  ears,  it  seems 
to  me  it  would  be  happiness  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  one  sweet 
woman  and  know  her  to  be  yours. " 

Zoe  made  no  answer.  She  had  not  heart  to  rebuke  the 
man  she  secretly  liked  so  well — the  man  who  had  just  been 
the  cause  of  saving  her,  it  might  be,  from  a  terrible  fate ; 
but  this  passion,  so  suddenly  grown  bold  and  rash,  needed 
checking.  She  sat  and  thought  how  she  might  most  gently 
administer  the  check.     It  was  Hirne  who  spoke  first. 

*^  Yes,  mine  has  been  a  storm-tossed  bark  ;  it's  little  bet- 
ter than  a  wreck  ;  there  is  no  hope  for  it  unless — it  might  be 
anchored  to  this  little  hand  " — suddenly  turning,  taking  up 
her  hand  that  lay  lightly  across  the  sleeping  child  and 
pressing  it  fervently  to  his  bearded  lips — *^the  hand  that 
belongs  to  another.  Does  it  ?  Tell  me,  are  you  still  bound 
to  that  man  ?  " 

'^Yes." 


28G  WILD    WORK. 

"And  you  love  him,  and  will  marry  him  ?" 
"I  do  not  kn — I  mean,  you  have  no  right  to  ask  such 
questions." 

"No  right!  Why,  my  happiness  for  life  is  bound  up 
in  your  answer.  Tell  me  you  do  not  love  him  best.  You 
are  silent.  What  a  fool  I  am  !  Of  course  you  love  him 
best.  Doubtless  he  is  one  of  fortune's  darlings.  His  per- 
son is  slick  and  fair  as  his  fortune,  while  I — I  am  rugged  as 
my  fate.  I  would  be  mad  to  think  that  you  could  love  me 
better.  Yet  I  have  been  guilty  of  that  very  madness  at 
times.  Only  for  a  minute,  though.  Way  out  on  the  plains, 
when  the  norther  chilled  my  marrow  as  I  rode,  I  have  pic- 
tured a  home  and  a  lighted  hearth,  and  within  its  ruddy  ra- 
diance a  woman  with  a  dainty  shape  and  soft,  dark  eyes,  and 
the  sweetest  mouth  this  side  of  angel-land,  sitting,  waiting 
to  smile  when  she  heard  my  step,  to  spring  to  kiss  me — to 
clasp  my  rugged  neck  with  her  soft  arms,  to — pshaw  !  it 
was  the  merest  mirage,  that  picture  which  rose  before  me  as 
I  rode  in  the  cold  and  dusk  with  miles  of  tall,  dry  grass 
bending  and  roaring  under  the  wild  trampling  of  the  north 
wind.  But — I  feel  like  fighting  with  fate  for  your  posses- 
sion. I  don't  deserve  you,  only  by  my  love.  I  have  loved  you 
ever  since  your  eyes  looked  on  me  with  such  divine  pity  as 
I  sat  chained  in  the  hold  of  the  Lavaca.  I  never  could  bear 
pity  before.  It  grew  almost  as  sweet  as  love  when  it  shone 
out  of  your  eyes.  Long  afterward,  when  I  carried  you  in 
my  arms,  wet  and  shivering  in  deadly  ague,  when  I  held 
you  to  my  heart  for  warmth,  and  covered  your  little,  cold 
hands  with  hot  kisses,  I  fancied  when  you  were  reviving 
you  called  my  name — called  it  tenderly,  as  if  you  loved  it. 
You  think  it  presumption  in  me — a  stranger,  a  rough  Texas 
ranger — to  talk  to  you  so.  You  think  in  your  gentle  heart 
this  man  has  done  me  a  favor,  he  is  unhappy,  he  is  foolishly 
infatuated ;  I  hate  to  repulse  him  unkindly,  but  I  know 


WILD    WORK.  287 

nothing  of  liim  except  that  he  is  an  escaped  Government 
prisoner,  that  he  gambles,  fights,  gets  into  scrapes,  is  an 
alien  from  society.  A  black  array  of  disreputables,  cer- 
tainly. She  were  a  rash  girl  who  would  let  such  a  man 
woo  her ;  and  for  a  dainty,  proud,  sweet  woman  like  you  ! 
— And  yet,  Miss  Vincent,  had  not  circumstances  thwarted 
my  life  and  twisted  my  nature,  I  would  not  have  been  so 
mean  a  rival  of  that  other  man  whom  you  will  bless  with 
your  hand.  My  birth  is  good.  My  parents  were  hon- 
orable. I  am  not  poor,  vagabond  though  I  seem,  and  I  am 
not  devoid  of  talent.  I  have  been  called  a  genius  by  my 
comrades  to  whom  I  sang  my  wild  rhymes  by  a  camp-fire. 
Some  of  these  it  may  amuse  you  to  read  sometimes.  I  have 
them  here  in  my  pocket,  scribbled  in  an  old  note-book — 
a  blood-stained  relic  of  war  days.  I  was  not  a  bad  sol- 
dier, Miss  Vincent,  and  I  earned  a  rank  of  Major  by  good 
fighting.  I  have  never  done  a  deliberate  wrong  to  any  hu- 
man being,  though  my  hand  has  been  ready  to  punish  the 
oppressor  and  the  cowardly  imposer  upon  the  weak.  I  am 
not  such  a  foe  to  society  either.  I  hate  its  shams,  I  care 
nothing  for  its  applause,  but  I  do  not  despise  my  fellow- 
men.  I  would  like  to  do  them  good  if  I  could.  I  am  edu- 
cating two  boys — orphan  sons  of  brave  soldiers — and  I  pen- 
sion two  widows  whose  husbands  fell  fighting  at  my  side.  I 
don^t  tell  you  all  this  to  praise  myself,  but  I  would  like  the 
woman  I  love  to  know  my  better  side,  that  she  might  not 
shrink  from  me  as  an  iniquitous  monster — innately  wicked. 
That  I  am  what  respectable  and  cold-blooded  people  call 
wicked  is  due  as  much  to  fate  as  to  innate  crookedness.  If 
you  knew  my  story — " 

^^Tell  it  to  me;  you  promised  once  that  I  should 
hear  it." 

*'  You  have  not  forgotten  that  ?  Then  you  have  thought 
of  me.    I  will  tell  you  my  story,  though  you  will  think  still 


288  WILD    WORK. 

worse  of  me,  maybe,  but  you  shall  hear  it.  I  was  bom  and 
reared  in  Texas.  My  parents  had  lost  a  large  property  in 
Virginia,  and  had  come  to  Texas  as  much  to  hide  their 
poverty  as  to  retrieve  their  fortune.  I  was  a  passionate, 
willful  child,  but  kindness  could  control  me.  My  parents 
did  not  understand  this  ;  their  plan  was  to  quell  the  offend- 
ing Adam  in  me  by  harsh  rule.  My  brothers,  who  were 
cast  in  a  gentler  mold,  they  loved  and  praised.  I  was 
looked  upon  as  a  black  sheep,  punished  inordinately  in 
childhood,  given  over  to  my  own  devices  as  I  sprang  into 
precocious  manhood.  As  a  consequence,  I  felt  myself  an 
alien.  I  hunted  and  fished  by  myself  or  with  the  overseer's 
son — a  dissolute  youth.  I  read  every  book  in  the  queer, 
miscellaneous  library  my  father  brought  with  him  from  the 
States.  *  Einaldo  Rinaldini '  and  *  Byron's  Corsair,'  as  well  as 
*  Rasselas '  and  *  Pilgrim's  Progress.'  I  carried  the  battered 
books  with  me  when  I  went  stock-minding  on  the  prairies  ; 
I  read  them  at  night  by  the  light  of  a  tallow  dip,  I  scrib- 
bled verses  on  the  fly-leaves,  and  saw  visions  and  dreamed 
dreams.  At  seventeen  I  fell  in  love ;  gave  up  my  whole 
crude,  fermenting  nature  to  a  mad  passion  for  a  girl  with 
blue  eyes  and  long  lashes — one  of  those  blushing,  dimpled 
creatures  that  near-sighted  fools  imagine  artless  and  angelic. 
I  thought  her  truly  an  angel,  and  lived  in  elysium  when  she 
promised  to  marry  me — boy  that  I  was,  not  yet  eighteen. 
On  the  very  night  before  we  were  to  have  eloped  she  had 
promised  to  marry  another  man.  I  had  heard  that  day 
that  the  marriage  would  be,  but  I  would  not  believe  it. 
That  evening  I  went  to  her  house.  As  I  opened  the  door, 
I  saw  lights,  an  unusual  gathering  of  friends,  and  my  angel 
dressed  in  celestial  white,  standing  before  the  priest,  her 
hand  in  my  rival's.  I  hardly  know  what  I  did,  but  my 
madness  broke  up  the  wedding.  The  only  thing  I  remem- 
ber distinctly  after  that  sight  of  the  white-robed  bride  is 


WILD    WORK.  289 

standing  by  the  roadside  at  night  with  my  brother  holding 
a  saddled  horse.     He  was  roughly  shaking  me. 

"  ^  Get  to  your  senses  ;  mount  and  ride/  he  said.  And 
in  answer  to  my  inquiry,  '  What  has  happened  ? '  he  said, 
*  Look  at  your  bloody  hands.  You  have  had  a  fight  with 
Mclyor.  He  has  given  you  a  scratch  on  the  shoulder,  and 
you  have  stabbed  him,  maybe,  to  death.  They'll  be  after 
3^ou  ;  mount  and  go  ;  there's  money  in  your  pocket. ' 

*' At  first  I  refused,  but  he  prevailed  on  me  to  go.  Nei- 
ther he  nor  I  thought  I  was  seriously  wounded,  but  before 
the  day  dawned  I  fell  off  my  horse  through  faintness  from 
loss  of  blood,  and  was  picked  up  by  a  Spanish  half-breed 
and  nursed  till  my  strength  came  back.  Then  I  mounted 
my  horse  again  and  went  on,  hardly  caring  where,  but  with 
my  face  toward  the  setting  sun.  I  passed  over  into  Mexico 
and  got  among  the  Indians.  They  were  friendly,  but  I  did 
not  stay  with  them.  I  built  me  a  hut  and  camped  to  my- 
self, and  for  over  a  year  led  a  sort  of  hermit's  life,  not  once 
seeing  a  white  face.  Once  I  helped  the  Indians  in  their 
fight  with  a  tribe  that  encroached  on  their  rights.  At  last 
I  gi-ew  restless.  I  wanted  to  hear  my  native  tongue,  and  to 
look  into  a  white  face.  I  had  a  little  store  of  gold  nuggets 
and  some  stones  I  knew  to  be  of  value.  I  left  my  hermit- 
age and  started  eastward.  As  I  neared  the  borders  of  my 
native  State  my  heart  beat  faster.  I  heard  the  sound  of 
running  water,  and  rode  to  the  boundary  river  just  as  a 
horseman  on  the  opposite  side  approached  its  banks.  He 
greeted  me  with  a  halloo,  spurred  his  horse  down  the  bank 
and  across  the  stream,  and  dismounted  and  shook  hands 
with  me  where  I  stood.  I  drank  from  the  river  and  pledged 
him  ^Our  Country,  the  United  States  for  ever.' 

"  *^  Take  back  the  toast,' he  cried,  there's  no  United 
States,'  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  learned  that  the  South 
had  severed  from  the  Union  and  was  fighting  for  her  inde- 


290  WILD    WORK. 

pendence.  He  himself  was  in  the  service,  and  had  been  sent 
on  a  secret  mission  to  Mexico.  The  news  of  war  stirred 
my  blood.  I  pressed  on  to  join  the  army.  Stopping  at 
home,  I  found  changes  there.  I  had  not  killed  the  man 
Laura  was  to  have  married.  He  recovered,  but,  before  he 
was  well,  news  came  that  he  was  an  impostor,  that  he  had 
already  a  wife.  So  my  rash  act  had  saved  her  from  that 
marriage. 

^'  But  she  was  unhappy.  Her  father  had  died — she  had 
lost  her  mother  long  before — and  she  was  left  without 
money,  dependent  upon  relations  who  made  her  a  drudge, 
and  grudged  her  the  bread  she  ate.  It  hurt  me  to  hear 
this,  though  the  girl  had  deceived  me  so.  I  would  not  see 
her,  but  I  begged  my  father  to  offer  her  a  home  with  him. 
I  was  going  straight  to  the  seat  of  war,  and  I  asked  him  to 
take  her  into  his  family  in  my  place.  He  did  so,  and  I 
went  to  Missouri  and  joined  General  Price's  division. 
Afterward  my  two  brothers  went  to  Virginia  and  fought 
under  Lee.  My  father  followed  them — went  back  to  his 
native  country  and  bought  back  his  old  home,  taking  Laura 
with  him.  I  went  home  once  severely  wounded,  and  re- 
mained three  months  before  I  was  strong  enough  to  sit  in 
the  saddle.  "When  I  returned  to  the  army  Laura  was  my 
wife.  She  made  me  believe  that  she  had  always  been  true 
to  me,  that  her  father  had  forced  her  to  do  as  she  had 
done.  I  believed  her,  trusted  her,  married  her  the  night 
before  I  left,  and  tore  myself  from  her  arms  in  a  passion  of 
grief  and  tenderness,  to  return  to  my  duty.  I  thought 
only  of  her  in  weary  marches,  in  camps  and  battles,  in  the 
long  days  of  pain  and  loneliness,  and  when  I  lay  a  prisoner 
in  a  Northern  hospital.  I  had  been  taken  up  wounded  and 
insensible  from  the  battle-field.  In  the  same  battle  my  two 
brothers  were  killed.  One  fell  by  my  side  ;  as  I  stooped  to 
put  the  canteen  of  water  to  his  dying  lips,  a  fragment  of 


WILD    WORK.  291 

shell  struck  me  in  the  breast,  and  another  here  ^vhere  this 
lock  covers  the  scar  on  my  temple. 

^'  When  I  was  free  again  the  war  was  over  ;  our  cause  was 
lost.  I  hurried  home,  or  to  the  place  where  my  home  had 
been.  I  found  only  a  heap  of  ashes.  I  asked  for  my  wife, 
my  parents  ;  the  neighbors  told  a  sickening  tale.  A  party 
of  marauders — an  irregular  offshoot  from  the  Federal  army 
— had  burned  my  home,  and  maltreated  the  old  man,  my 
father,  so  that  he  died  soon  after.  My  mother  died  a  few 
weeks  later  from  the  shock  of  grief  and  terror,  and  the 
exposure  to  the  winter  night.  '  But,  my  wife  !  my  wife  ! ' 
I  cried.  The  people  looked  at  each  other  and  shook  their 
heads.  '  She  is  dead,  then  ?  they  killed  her  ? '  Still  they 
shook  their  heads.  At  last  one  said  :  *  It  is  a  pity  she  had 
not  died,  friend.  The  troops  occupied  the  town  afterward, 
and  she  w^ent  off  with  one  of  the  oflScers.' 

*^  Could  a  man  hear  these  words  and  keep  his  brain  cool  ? 
Mine  was  on  fire,  yet  outwardly  I  was  calm.  I  hunted  out 
the  wretch  who  had  headed  the  band  that  murdered  my  fa- 
ther. I  ought  to  have  shot  him  down  without  giving  him 
a  chance  for  his  life,  but  I  could  never  do  that.  I  provoked 
him  to  fight,  and  I  killed  him  in  fair  combat.  I  was  taken 
and  thrown  into  jail.  I  made  no  defense.  I  knew  none 
would  be  admitted.  I  was  a  Southerner — a  Confederate 
officer.  I  was  tried,  condemned  to  be  hanged.  Afterward 
the  sentence  was  commuted  to  confinement  in  the  peniten- 
tiary for  life.  I  was  three  years  an  inmate  of  the  prison. 
One  night  there  was  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  prisoners 
to  bum  the  building.  I  helped  to  save  it.  I  saved  the  life 
of  the  keeper  when  some  of  the  incendiaries  were  about  to  kill 
him.  For  this  I  was  recommended  to  mercy,  pardoned,  set 
free.  Pardoned  after  suffering  three  years  of  misery  and 
disgrace  for  having  done  a  just  deed.  I  had  rather  they  had 
hung  me,  but  for  one  thing— the  chance  to  get  revenge." 


292  WILD    WORK. 

"And  the  woman  ?"  Zoe  asked,  "your — ?" 

"My  wife  ?  I  saw  her  once  afterward — the  only  time 
since  I  parted  from  her  twelve  hours  after  that  ill-judged 
marriage.  It  was  in  New  York.  As  I  walked  the  streets 
one  night  a  sound  of  music  and  dancing  came  to  my  ears. 
A  silvery  laugh  made  me  look  up  to  the  open,  lighted  win- 
dows of  the  hall.  At  one  of  them  stood  a  woman,  the 
light  full  on  her  bare  shoulders  and  jeweled  arms.  It  was 
Laura.  She  was  as  blooming  as  ever  ;  no  remorse  or  shame 
had  changed  her.  Two  hours  after,  the  floor  of  the  build- 
ing in  which  the  revel  was  held  gave  way;  Laura  was 
among  the  hurt.  She  never  walked  again.  I  provided  for 
her  comfort  until  she  died,  though  I  could  not  bring  my- 
self to  see  her.  She  was  a  soulless  siren  ;  a  soft-eyed,  pink- 
cheeked  simulator  of  innocence.  I  am  glad  you  are  no  way 
like  her,  my  dark,  proud  little  love.  Don't  be  angry  with 
me.  One  may  love  the  Madonna  and  praise  her,  sitting  at 
her  feet,  as  I  at  yours. 

"  Well,  I  have  told  you  the  circumstances  that  made  me 
w^hat  I  am.  You  know  that  I  have  been  condemned  to  die 
on  the  gallows,  have  lain  in  a  State's  prison,  though  I 
never  harmed  an  innocent  man  or  wronged  a  woman.  But, 
ah  !  mine  were  rough  ways  and  a  wild  life  ;  and  blood  and 
chains  will  stain,  though  one  be  shed  in  a  right  cause  and 
the  other  unjustly  worn.  I  am  not  fit  to  be  your  associate, 
my  white  innocence."' 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  as  though  the  thought  stung  him 
to  the  quick. 

"I  know  you  are  glad  that  your  husband  that  is  to  be 
has  no  such  stains  ;  that  he  is  a  reputable  man  who  makes 
money  and  takes  care  of  himself,  and  keeps  to  smooth,  beat- 
en ways.  Society  smiles  on  him  ;  so  it  might  have  smiled 
on  me  had  I  been  as  little  tempted  and  made  of  colder 
stuff.     Then  you  might  have  respected  me — given  me  your 


WILD    WORK.  293 

hand  as  a  sign  that  you  took  me  for  an  honest  man  and  a 
friend,  if  no  more." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  impulsively. 

"I  do  take  you  for  an  honest  man  and  a  friend,"  she 
said.  *^You  have  passed  through  the  furnace;  you  were 
more  than  mortal  if  you  did  not  bear  the  scars.  But  scars 
are  only  skin-deep  ;  you  may  yet —  " 

She  was  going  to  read  him  a  homily ;  but  she  faltered, 
embarrassed.  That  clasp  in  which  he  held  her  hand,  that 
look,  were  too  fervent  for  the  friendliness  she  wanted  him 
to  pledge  her. 

*^0h!  my  sweet,"  he  said,  bending  over  her,  "that 
other  man  may  be  worthier  of  you,  but  he  can  never  love 
you  as  I  do.  If  you  would  be  my  saint,  I  would  worship 
goodness — in  you — for  ever." 

He  had  knelt  at  her  feet,  still  holding  her  hand,  as 
though  it  were  a  last  hope.  He  started  as  he  heard  the 
gallop  of  horses.  The  riders  drew  up  to  the  front  gate  and 
hallooed  for  Hirne. 

"  Here  ! "  he  cried,  starting  up.  The  horsemen  rode 
around  to  the  back  gate,  and  Hirne  went  out  to  see  them. 
Zoe  carried  her  pretty,  sleeping  burden  into  the  room. 
Hurrying  back,  she  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  piazza  and 
heard  the  answer  to  Hirne's  question  :  "What  news  from 
Cohatchie?" 

"  The  Radical  officers  are  to  be  sent  out  of  the  State 
to-morrow  with  an  escort  to  protect  them." 

"  Sent  off  !  Were  they  not  convicted  of  having  incited 
the  negroes  to  rob  and  murder  the  white  people  of  the 
parish  ?  " 

^*  Of  course.  One  of  the  black  rascals  that  was  hanged 
owned  to  being  put  up  to  firing  on  the  patrol  by  the  Eadi- 
cals." 

"And  all  those  frantic  calls  for  armed  men  to  help  put 


29J:  WILD    WORK, 

down  a  riot  result  in  the  hanging  of  a  few  negroes  !  The 
real  offenders  to  be  sent  safely  away  !  Are  the  men  here  so 
mortally  afraid  of  prospective  bayonets  that  they  let  mur- 
derers go  free  ?  " 

"No,  Cap'n,  all  are  not  such  cowards,"  exclaimed  a 
coarse  voice.  Cobb  rode  out  from  among  the  others,  and 
went  on  speaking:  '^There's  men  yonder  in  Cohatchis 
that  are  mad  enough  at  the  verdict  of  the  committee. 
They've  got  plenty  of  grit  to  break  it  up,  but  they  want 
somebody  to  go  ahead.  Let  me  have  a  word  with  you, 
Cap'n." 

He  rode  up  close  to  Hirne  and  talked  to  him  in  low 
tones.     Zoe  heard  Hirne  say  : 

**  I'm  with  you  ;  I'll  saddle  my  horse  and  be  ready  in  ten 
minutes." 

**  The  sooner  the  better,"  Cobb  replied.  "  By  the  time 
we  cross  the  river  and  ride  to  Cohatchie  it  will  be  day- 
break, and  our  foxes  leave  cover  at  sunrise. ' ' 

Zoe  shuddered.     She  knew  now  what  was  intended. 

'*I  will  see  Hirne  before  he  crosses  the  river,"  she  re- 
solved. '*  He  must  have  nothing  to  do  with  this,  unless  to 
prevent  it  if  he  can. " 

She  called  him  softly  as  he  was  passing  through  the 
yard  on  his  way  to  saddle  his  horse,  which  had  been  fast- 
tened  near  the  store.  He  came  to  her,  and  she  began  with 
trembling  earnestness  : 

"Don't  go  on  that  mission  to-night.  Captain  Hirne." 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  have  me  leave  you  ?  A  guard  will 
stay  here  to  protect  yon.  I  do  not  think  the  negroes  will 
attempt  any  harm. " 

"I  know  they  will  not.  I  would  not  be  afraid,  to 
stay  here  without  protectors.  Levi  is  dead.  Only  his 
influence  wrought  the  negroes  up  to  making  that  hasty 
show  of  violence — half-armed  handful  as  they  were,  come 


WILD    WORK.  295 

together  with  a  crude  notion  of  self-defense  and  retalia- 
tion." 

**  How  is  that  ?  You  do  not  believe  the  disturbance 
here  was  a  part  of  the  riot  planned  by  the  Eadical  gang  ?  " 

**  Captain  Hirne,  what  proof  have  we  that  a  riot  was 
planned  by  the  Radicals  ?  Is  it  not  a  senseless  act,  for 
those  belonging  to  a  party  that  has  already  the  balance  of 
power  in  the  parish  to  plan  to  ruin  themselves  and  their 
cause  by  such  a  step  ?  " 

"  What,  then,  did  this  excitement  in  Cohatchie  mean  ? 
— this  great  hue  and  cry,  and  calling  together  of  armed 
men  to  protect  the  town  ?  " 

"  Captain  Hirne — it  goes  against  my  heart  to  say  so — 
but  I  fear  the  demonstrations  in  Cohatchie  meant  a  deep- 
laid  plot  on  our  side ;  not  a  plot  of  the  people's,  though 
they  were  duped  and  led  into  it  by  a  few  men  (perhaps  only 
one  man)  who  are  mad  to  rid  themselves  of  Eadical  rule. 
You  will  say  that  this  is  a  just  motive,  and  that  these  office- 
holders are  corrupt  and  are  aliens,  unfit  to  represent  our 
people.  But  surely  you  will  not  hold  that  they  should  be 
got  rid  of  by  assassination  !  You  must  feel  what  a  horrible 
wrong  it  would  be  to  take  the  lives  of  those  six  men  in  Co- 
hatchie when  no  crime  has  been  proved  upon  them.  There 
is  nothing  in  their  past  lives  to  justify  the  darker  charge 
brought  against  them.  They  have  lived  among  us  for 
years ;  they  have  done  many  a  kindly  act  to  our  citizens. 
One  of  them  has  just  married  a  daughter  of  our  people ; 
all  of  them  but  two  have  families.  They  have  resigned 
their  offices  ;  they  only  ask  to  leave  the  State  in  safety,  and 
to  have  their  wives  and  little  ones  sent  after  them.  Cap- 
tain Hirne,  have  nothing  to  do  with  killing  these  men,  I 
beseech  you.     Prevent  it  if  you  can." 

The  Texas  ranger  stood  like  a  bloodhound  suddenly 
leashed  in  sight  of  the  game.     The  wrongs  he  had  received 


296  WILD    WORK. 

made  him  over-ready  to  believe  evil  of  the  people  at  whose 
hands  he  had  suffered.  He  was  fired  by  the  picture  of  the 
horrible  negro  outbreak  inspired  by  Eadical  oppressors. 
The  old  strife  was  stirred  up  in  his  breast,  the  smoldering 
fire  of  vengeance  blazed  up  anew.  But  he  would  do  no 
harm  to  innocent  men  ;  he  would  only  punish  the  guilty. 

He  listened  in  profound,  startled  attention  to  Zoe's 
words. 

**This  is  a  strange  revelation,"  he  said.  "A  political 
plot !  One  of  our  men  the  instigator  !  Miss  Vincent,  will 
you  tell  me  why  you  believe  this  ?  " 

''I  came  to  believe  it  partly  from  putting  things  to- 
gether, but  chiefly  because  of  what  I  heard  from  the  lips  of 
a  man  who  declares  he  was  hired  to  bring  on  a  disturbance 
in  a  different  way.  That  plan  failed.  Afterward  the  man 
was  dangerously  wounded  while  on  this  place.  While  he  was 
so  ill  he  told  me  of  his  being  employed  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance with  the  Radical  office-holders.  I  knew  that  he 
received  money  and  messages  from  the  man  who  had  em- 
ployed him,  as  he  said.  Yet  he  was  a  stranger — an  acknowl- 
edged desperado." 

"  Where  is  this  man  ?  " 

"He  is  here." 

''Will  you  send  him  to  me  ?" 

"  I  will.  I  believe  he  will  repeat  to  you  what  he  owned 
to  me." 

As  she  turned  off  she  saw  a  dusky  form  slink  closer 
into  the  shadow  of  a  tree  a  few  steps  from  the  piazza.  It 
was  Cobb.  Standing  on  the  ground  below  them,  he  had 
caught  the  import  of  Zoe's  appeal  to  Hirne,  and  he  resolved 
to  forestall  her.  He  watched  her,  and  saw  her  approach 
Dan,  who  was  leading  his  horse  from  the  stable. 

'*  I'm  going  with  them,  if  I  die  for  it.  I  can't  stand  it 
any  longer,"  Dan  said. 


WILD    WORK.  297 

She  stopped  him,  and  made  her  request  that  he  would 
tell  Hirne  what  he  had  told  her  of  his  being  hired  by 
Alver. 

"Anything  to  please  you,"  Cobb  heard  ISTolan  say.  "  I 
owe  Alver  a  grudge,  anyhow.  If  he  has  done  anything  to 
Jim,  he  won't  plot  much  more." 

Zoe  went  back  to  the  house,  and  Cobb  came  up  to  Dan 
as  he  was  fastening  his  horse. 

"Where's  your  Captain  ?"  Nolan  asked  hiin. 

"  Yonder,"  returned  Cobb,  pointing  to  the  store.  "  But, 
look  here,  my  friend,  you  had  better  think  twice  before  you 
blab  to  him  what's  on  your  tongue's  end.  Keep  what  you 
know  to  yourself  and  it'll  be  a  sword  oyer  Alver,  and  as 
good  as  a  bank  account  to  you.  You  can  check  on  the 
Colonel  whenever  you  are  hard  up.  But  let  it  out,  and 
Where's  the  good  to  you  or  anybody.  Another  thing  :  if 
you  try  to  spoil  sport  to-night,  you  stand  in  your  own  light. 
Them  prisoners  don't  start  off  from  Cohatchie  empty- 
handed  ;  you  understand  ?  " 

Dan  did  understand.  "You're  in  the  right,"  he  said; 
"I'll  not  stand  in  the  way  of  sport." 

He  hunted  up  Hirne,  and  said  : 

"I  am  the  man  Miss  Vincent  told  you  about.  I'm 
sorry  she  brought  up  what  I  said,  because  it  was  only  a 
hoax.  I  did  say  some  foolish  things  when  I  was  out  of  my 
head  with  fever  ;  and,  when  she  asked  me  about  them  after- 
ward, I  didn't  retract.  I  added  to  them,  just  to  seem  big 
in  her  eyes.  It  was  foolish,  but  I  thought  nothing  would 
come  of  it.  Now  she's  made  a  serious  matter  of  it,  I  must 
out  with  the  truth." 

"Are  you  telling  me  the  truth,  man  ?"  Hirne  said,  in 
his  incisive  way. 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  tell  you  anything  else  ?    I — " 

Cobb  came  up. 


208  WILD    WORK. 

*^Not  saddled  up  yet,  Cap'n  ?  Where's  your  horse? 
I'll  get  him  ready  for  you." 

**  Thank  you.  I'll  go  over  and  say  good-by  to  the  people 
who  have  been  so  kind  to  us." 

**  They've  all  gone  to  bed,  I  believe,"  Cobb  said.  But 
Ilirne  went  on  to  the  house.  Zoe  was  attending  to  her 
brother.  He  waited  a  while,  and,  thinking  that  she  had 
retired,  went  back  to  the  store. 

**  Women — at  least  gentle,  innocent  ones  like  that 
young  girl — are  too  tender-hearted  to  judge  rightly.  And 
they  can  not  comprehend  the  stern  necessity  of  punish- 
ment," he  said  to  himself. 

A  moment  later  he  and  Cobb,  Dan  Nolan  and  the  two 
men  who  had  brought  the  news  from  Cohatchie,  rode  down 
to  the  landing,  where  they  put  themselves  across  the  river 
in  the  flat.  Not  till  they  had  landed  on  the  opposite  bank 
did  Zoe  find  out  that  they  had  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

*  "  If  I  could  have  seen  him  again  ;  if  I  had  only  made 
him  promise  that  he  would  not  harm  those  men!"  she 
thought  as  she  watched  the  party  spur  their  horses  up  the 
steep  bank  of  the  river  and  ride  away  in  the  direction  of 
Cohatchie.  "  But  surely  Dan  Nolan  told  him  ;  he  prom- 
ised he  would ;  and  what  Dan  could  tell  him  of  Alver's 
former  scheme  to  involve  the  office-holders  in  a  disturbance 
must  rouse  the  suspicion  that  there  is  some  such  secret  de- 
sign in  this  reported  outbreak,  and  that  these  men  may  be 
innocent  of  the  charge  against  them.  Yet  Captain  Hirne 
has  gone  to  Cohatchie ;  for  what  purj^ose  ?     God  forbid 


WILD    WORK.  299 

that  it  is  to  head  a  mob  to  lynch  and  murder  these  officers. 
No,  no,  he  has  gone  to  restrain  violence,  to  prevent  blood- 
shed.    He  would  not  be  so  unmindful  of  my  entreaties." 

A  step  broke  upon  her  anxious  musing.  Mandy  ap- 
proached and  handed  her  a  scrap  of  paper. 

"Cap'n  Hirne  give  it  to  me,"  she  said.  "He  tore  de 
paper  outer  his  hat-crown  and  writ  on  it  by  de  moonlight. 
He's  a  fine  man.  I'll  never  forgit  him  for  sparin'  Tom ; 
nor  you  nuther,  Miss  Zoe." 

Zoe  took  the  crumpled  bit  of  paper  to  the  light  and  read 
the  words  penciled  upon  it. 

"  I  waited  to  see  you  again  before  I  went  away,  but  you 
did  not  come  out,  and  I  was  afraid  of  disturbing  you.  I 
know  how  sorely  you  need  rest.  I  will  see  you  some  time 
to-morrow.  Yours,  Hirne." 

Mandy  had  followed  Zoe  into  the  room. 

"Here's  Cap'n  Hirne's  coat,"  she  said.  "He  lef  it  on 
de  store  gallery  and  ax  me  to  give  it  to  you  to  keep  for  him. 
Some  papers  in  de  pocket  and  a  book.  He  say  he  tol'  you 
about  de  book." 

The  note  somewhat  quieted  Zoe's  anxiety.  Hirne  would 
not  have  written  to  her  so  calmly,  she  reasoned,  if  he  had 
been  setting  out  on  a  bloody  mission  in  disregard  of  her 
prayers.  She  had  gained  a  hold  upon  this  wild  nature,  but 
was  it  strong  enough  to  overpower  the  long-indulged  pas- 
sion for  strife  and  revenge  that  seized  him  at  times  with 
almost  maniacal  frenzy  ?  More  than  once  she  had  seen 
him  in  the  grasp  of  this  demon.  An  hour  ago  she  had 
shuddered  at  the  sudden  change  which  came  over  him  on 
hearing  the  news  Cobb  brought  from  Cohatchie  ;  the  grimly- 
set  mouth,  the  lurid  light  that  leaped  into  his  eyes.  That 
look  haunted  her  when  she  at  last  lay  upon  her  bed.     But 


300  WILD    WORK. 

the  long  strain  on  brain  and  body  soon  reacted  into  rest, 
and  she  slept  profoundly. 

She  woke  from  that  deep  sleep  to  see  the  sun  shining 
brightly  through  the  vines  at  the  window,  and  hear  the 
birds  twittering  in  the  trees  outside.  For  a  moment  she 
lay  in  delicious  oblivion  of  everything  but  present  sen- 
sation ;  then  the  recollection  of  yesterday's  wild  drama 
rushed  over  her,  with  the  thought  that  it  was  not  yet 
ended,  and  the  dread  that  the  darkest  scene  was  yet  to  be 
unfolded. 

The  dread  clung  to  her  as  she  went  about  her  domestic 
duties,  helped  by  grateful  Mandy.  It  was  increased  by  a 
communication  from  Tom  Ludd.  Hugh,  who  was  now 
free  of  fever,  and  eager  for  news  from  Cohatchie,  had  the 
negro  at  his  bedside,  plying  him  with  questions.  He  learned 
that  the  four  men  whom  Hirne  had  left  to  guard  the  place 
had  crossed  the  river  at  daybreak  on  their  way  to  Alver's 
head-quarters,  and  that  one  of  them  had  said  in  Tom's  hear- 
ing that  there  would  be  ''wild  work  before  the  sun  went 
down,  for  Hirne  was  on  the  Radicals'  track,  and  they'd 
find  he  wasn't  one  like  the  Cohatchie  folks — to  make  a  big 
fuss  and  then  draw  back  scared  like  a  settin'  goose." 

"  It's  my  opinion  the  officers  will  be  lynched  as  they 
come  out  of  prison,"  Vincent  said.  ''  It  can  be  done  with- 
out much  fear  of  consequences.  With  all  that  mob  they've 
got  together  there'll  be  no  telling  who  did  the  mischief. 
An  investigation  of  it  will  be  another  edition  of  '  Who  struck 
Billy  Patterson.'" 

Zoe  turned  away,  sickened  by  the  horror  these  words 
suggested.  And  he  would  be  foremost  in  this  foul  massa- 
cre— the  man  she  loved.  No,  not  loved.  She  said  to  her- 
self that  she  did  not  love  Hirne.  She  would  not  suffer  her- 
self to  love  such  a  man — ^but  she  felt  in  her  heart  that  his 
words  and  looks  lived  in  her  as  none  others'  did. 


V^ILD    WORK.  301 

The  long  summer  day  wore  on.  How  quiet  it  was ! 
The  broad  fields  lay  green  under  the  sun,  no  negroes  at 
work  in  them,  no  negroes  sauntering  along  the  riyer  bank, 
or  hanging  about  the  store.  The  echoing  volley  that  had 
announced  the  fate  of  their  leader  had  made  them  cower  still 
closer  in  their  coverts.  They  would  not  stir  out  even  for 
food.  Tom  was  the  only  negro  man  to  be  seen  on  this  side 
the  river  for  miles  ;  and  he  kept  as  close  to  Zoe  as  possible. 
Presently,  with  his  round  eyes  dilated  with  fright,  he  re- 
ported that  a  party  of  armed  horsemen  were  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river  preparing  to  cross. 

"'Tain't  de  ones  dat  was  here  yistiddy,"  he  said. 
*  *  Mebbe  dese  here  won't  know  I  done  had  my  trial  and  got 
clar,  do  I  got  papers  to  show  for  it.  Mighty  strong  papers, 
too ;  so  dat  young  fellow  dat  laugh  so  tol'  me.  He  gin 
me  one  paper,  and  when  I  showed  it  to  Cap'n  Hirne  de 
Cap'n  kinder  frown  and  laugh  to  onct,  an'  gin  me  anuther 
one.     I  wish  you'd  jes'  zamine  'em,  Miss  Zoe." 

He  took  two  folded  scraps  of  paper  from  a  flabby  old 
pocket-book  and  handed  them  to  Zoe.  One  of  these  to- 
bacco-scented slips,  dated  "Head-quarters,  Hirne's  Divis- 
ion," called  upon  all  men  ''to  know  by  these  presents  that 
Tom  Ludd,  a  citizen  of  the  African  persuasion,  had  been 
pardoned  for  his  share  in  the  late  disturbance  through  the 
following  considerations  :  First,  that  a  young  lady,  pretty 
as  red  shoes,  had  begged  for  him ;  second,  that  he  was  a 
non-compos  of  the  first  degree ;  and,  third,  that  his  wife 
could  cook  a  chicken-pie  fit  to  set  before  an  emperor,  or 
Sam  Houston,  if  he  was  alive." 

The  other  one  of  Tom's  ''strong  papers"  was  a  certifi- 
cate that  he  had  been  taken  up  and  acquitted.  It  was 
signed  by  Hirne,  representing  volunteers  from  Sabine 
County,  Texas,  and  De  Soto  Parish,  La. 

As  Zoe  looked  up  from  reading  it  she  saw  a  negro 


302  WILD   WORK. 

woman  coming  toward  the  house  through  the  cotton,  a 
tin  bucket  on  her  arm.  Her  wild  look  drew  forth  the  in- 
quiry : 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head  and  muttered  incoherently 
at  first;  then,  coming  nearer,  she  held  up  her  hand  and 
said,  in  a  strange  half  whisper  : 

"I've  seen  a  sight  I'll  never  forgit  to  my  dyin'  day.  I 
slipped  out  in  de  swamp  to  take  some  vittles  to  my  George. 
I  see  a  colored  man  standin'  up  aginst  a  tree.  I  caU  out, 
'  Who's  dar  ? '  No  answer.  I  call  agin.  I  see  de  limb 
close  to  him  shake,  and  dat's  all.  I  went  closter.  I  see  it's 
Levi.  Xobody  else  so  tall,  and  I  see  his  lip  turn  up  in  dat 
scornin'  way.  I  tought  him  'live  standin'  dere  till  I  got 
clost  up,  and,  flop  !  a  buzzard  flew  out  from  de  limb  by  his 
head ;  an'  den  I  see  he's  tied  to  a  tree,  an'  his  face  an' 
bress  full  o'  bloody  holes  where  de  shots  tore,  an'  de  buz- 
zards done  picked — " 

"  Hush  ! "  cried  Zoe,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands 
as  though  to  shut  out  the  horrid  vision  conjured  up  before 
her.  Tom  rolled  over  and  groaned  in  mortal  fright.  The 
next  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  horsemen  who  had 
crossed  the  river,  and  were  now  riding  up  to  the  house. 
He  dashed  into  the  kitchen,  darted  at  a  nearly  empty  flour- 
baiTcl,  and  turned  it  up  over  him.  Under  this  defense  he 
squatted,  while  the  men  dismounted,  quenched  their  thirst 
at  the  cistern,  and,  filling  their  pockets  with  peaches,  sat 
on  the  edge  of  the  piazza  eating  fruit  and  talking  to  Vin- 
cent, who  got  up  and  came  to  the  window  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves. Tom  did  not  venture  from  his  hiding-place,  and 
Mandy,  coming  to  hunt  for  him,  answered  his  sepulchral 
whisper,  "Is  dey  gone?"  by  overturning  the  barrel  and 
revealing  his  motley  figure. 

"  Go  out  and  shake  yerself,  yer  scary  goose  !"  she  said. 


WILD    WORK,  303 

"  YouVe  got  a  mess  er  biskitts  in  that  wool  o'  youm,  let 
alone  the  rest  of  yer  body." 

The  news  from  Cohatchie  was  better  than  Zoe  had  dared 
to  hope  for.  The  prisoners  had  been  allowed  to  go  safely 
away,  accompanied  by  a  guard  they  had  chosen  themselves. 
Among  these  was  Hayne,  the  young  Southerner,  who  had 
been  such  a  pet  with  the  "Witchells,  and  Henry  Bronn, 
Zoe's  shy  admirer.  The  Captain  of  the  guard  was  a  man 
who  had  lately  insinuated  himself  into  the  favor  of  the 
Eadical  ofi&cers. 

It  was  something  that  the  prisoners  had  been  suffered 
to  depart,  but  the  man  who  told  Vincent  of  it  laughed 
sardonically,  as  he  added  that  he'd  advise  them  not  to  crow 
until  they  were  out  of  the  woods. 

"They  took  money  enough  to  get  them  through  all 
right,"  said  another  ;  "and  they've  got  fine  horses." 

"  They'll  get  through  none  the  quicker  for  that,"  mut- 
tered the  first  speaker,  significantly,  whereat  one,  who 
seemed  to  be  in  command,  called  out : 

"You  had  better  hold  your  tongue,  unless  you  know 
what  you  are  talking  about,"  at  the  same  time  directing  a 
meaning  glance  at  Vincent.  The  same  man  had  brought 
Hugh  an  order  from  Alver  to  report  to  him  at  Cohatchie, 
and  had  questioned  Vincent  closely  about  his  illness,  as 
though  he  suspected  it  to  be  a  sham.  He  volunteered  the 
information  that  Alver  was  going  "  to  keep  things  straight 
from  now  out,  and  that,  more  than  ever,  his  motto  would 
be,  *  Those  who  are  not  with  us  are  against  us.'  " 

"We  shall  have  some  news  before  to-morrow,"  Hugh 
said  as  the  reconnoitring  party  rode  gayly  away  through 
the  fields  and  along  the  river-bank,  never  once  penetrating 
the  swamp,  where  they  might  have  found  what  they  pro- 
fessed to  be  seeking — the  negroes  that  had  been  in  arms. 

"  There's  more  in  the  wind  than  these  fellows  will  let 


304:  WILD    WORK. 

on,"  continued  Vincent ;  "  more  tlum  they  really  know  of, 
maybe,  though  one  of  them  seems  to  suspect." 

Still  Zoe  was  hopeful  that  the  worst  was  over.  She 
found  herself  looking  eagerly  across  the  river  for- a  sight  of 
Hirne's  returning  figure.  The  old  note-book  he  had  wanted 
her  to  see  had  fallen  from  the  pocket  of  his  coat  while  that 
garment  was  being  shaken  and  brushed  by  Mandy. 

"It  must  a'  gone  through  the  war,"  was  her  comment. 
*'  Its  all  battered  like  as  a  bullet  or  a  ba3"'net's  come  afoul 
of  it.  And  here's  a  stain  dat  looks  like  blood.  'Tain't 
much  of  a  thing  to  be  to  tin'  about. " 

But  the  book  was  "much"  to  Zoe.  She  took  it  out 
with  her  under  the  trees.  Lying  in  a  russet  hammock — 
a-swing,  like  an  oriole's  nest,  from  a  sycamore  limb — she 
turned  the  pages  of  the  old  book,  and  read  the  fragments 
of  verses  he  had  scribbled  in  the  saddle,  on  the  prairie  bi- 
vouac, or  by  the  lonely  watch-fire.  They  gave  her  broken, 
panoramic  pictures  of  his  wild,  sad  life,  and  strange,  two- 
sided  being.  And  she  traced  through  them  the  growth  of 
the  shadow  that  overcast  his  better  nature  ;  and  also,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  the  gradual  passing  of  the  shadow — a  strug- 
gling out  of  the  lurid  mists  of  strife — a  strong  aspiration 
for  a  pure  and  more  peaceful  atmosphere.  Zoe  said  to  her- 
self what  a  miserable  thing  it  would  be  if  this  political 
agitation  should  draw  him  back  into  the  old,  turbulent 
vortex. 

The  verses  at  the  beginning  of  the  book  were  crude  out- 
pourings of  boyish  enthusiasm  and  passion,  together  with 
rhapsodies  over  the  vast  freedom  of  the  prairies  and  moun- 
tains. Then  came  outbursts  of  patriotism — a  clash  of  war 
cymbals — songs  that  stirred  like  bugle  blasts,  and  that  had 
been  sung  by  his  comrades  on  the  march  and  by  camp  fires. 

Blotted  pages  followed — the  fierce,  raving  utterances  of 
despair  and  revenge.    They  were  too  painful  for  Zoe  to  read. 


^YILD    WORK.  305 

In  the  group  of  poems  that  preceded  these  she  found  a 
dramatic  colloquy  that  embodied  the  incident  Hirne  had 
related  to  her — his  meeting  the  Confederate  Secret  Service 
messenger  on  the  banks  of  a  Mexican  river,  and  hearing 
from  him  the  startling  news  of  the  rupture  between  the 
States.  In  the  poem  the  self-exile  welcomes  the  tidings  of 
war.  It  offers  an  outlet  for  the  energies  of  his  disturbed 
being.  Seizing  his  gun  and  turning  his  face  to  the  scenes 
of  civilization,  now  the  scenes  of  strife,  he  says  : 

"A  woman's  treachery  drove  me  here,  half  maddened  by  despair, 
Like  a  wild,  wounded  beast,  to  make  in  loneliness  my  lair. 
I  shunned  my  kind,  and  sought  to  find  in  trackless  solitude. 
In  savage  sport  and  perils  wild,  cure  for  my  bitter  mood. 
But  this  is  better ;  this  is  rare.     Hail !  glorious  news  of  war ! 
Hail !  ratthog  challenge  of  the  guns !  Sweeter  your  music  far 
Than  the  betraying  song  of  love.     I'll  drown  in  battle's  roar 
All  memory  of  the  siren  voice  that  I  shall  hear  no  more. 
And  life  and  death  are  one  to  me,  for  not  an  eye  would  weep 
If  in  my  soldier's  blanket  wrapped  I  slept  a  bloody  sleep. 
Welcome  the  tidings  of  the  war !  My  wild  blood  bounds  apace. 
Come,  tried  and  trusty  rifle-friend ;  give  us  a  foremost  place. 
Here's  better  game  for  you  and  me  than  buffalo  or  deer; 
"We'll  laugh  at  death  we've  faced  before,  and  mock  at  coward  fear." 

Farther  on  he  wrote  of  that  four  years'  madness,  so  ill- 
judged  in  its  beginning,  so  bloody  in  its  issues  : 

"  Down  on  the  mighty  drama  rushed 

The  midnight  curtain  of  despair. 
Its  lights  are  quenched,  its  music  hushed, 

Not  one  wild  echo  stirs  the  air. 
Dried  are  the  tears  its  pathos  woke, 

Still'd  are  the  plaudits  of  its  power, 
Cold  are  the  loving  hearts  it  broke, 

And  green  its  graves — the  mournful  dower 

It  left  to  this  forgetful  hour." 


306  WILD    WORK 

Into  the  later  poems  had  stolen  a  gentler  spirit,  though 
yeined  with  the  melancholy  fatalism  which  he  had  told  Zoe 
was  born  of  his  persistent  ill-fortune.  One  little  love  song, 
which  by  its  date  had  been  written  since  he  had  known  Zoe, 
was  called  "Parted." 

"  We  met ;  it  was  when  langhing  Spring 

Her  earliest  wreath  was  twining, 

When  birds  were  out  on  dewy  wing, 

And  skies  were  blue  and  shining. 
I  little  reck'd  of  sunny  skies. 
Or  April  bloom  beguiling, 
My  sunshine  was  your  radiant  eyes, 
My  spring  your  tender  smiling. 

"  I  said  to  Fate,  *  I  will  not  fear 

Your  voice  of  cruel  scorning ' ; 
I  said  to  Memory,  '  Flap  not  here 

Your  raven  wing  of  warning. 
The  days  must  be  for  you  and  me. 

The  nights,  all  wild  and  lonely ; 
But  now  I  bid  your  shadow  flee, 

This  hour  is  mine,  mine  only.* 

*' Alas!  I  heard  upon  the  hill 

Fate's  low,  defiant  laughter ; 
Ah !  felt  you  not  my  heart  grow  still, 

My  lips  grow  cold  thereafter? 
I  saw,  and  knew  it  for  a  sign, 

The  breezeless  poplar  quiver, 
And  felt,  even  with  your  heart  to  mine. 

We'd  met  to  part  for  ever. 

"  Dear  love,  the  saintly  sages  tell 
A  wild  and  wondrous  story. 
That  death  shall  not  the  spirit  quell, 
Nor  quench  its  fadeless  glory ; 


WILD    WORK.  307 

I  heed  not  these,  but  in  my  soul 

A  prophet  voice  is  telling 
That  love  knows  never  mortal  goal, 

Nor  ever  earthly  kneUing. 
Beyond  the  stars,  whose  silver  feet 

Through  heaven's  blue  pathways  quiver, 
In  some  fair  Aidenn  we  shall  meet 

Who  have  parted  here  for  ever." 

A  tear  fell  upon  the  old  note-book. 

**The  passionate  heart  that  throbs  through  these  poems 
is  mine,"  thought  Zoe.  There  was  a  bitter-sweet  thrill  in 
the  thought,  and  in  the  echo  of  the  words  : 

*^0h!  my  sweet,  that  other  man  may  be  worthier  of 
you,  but  he  can  never  love  you  as  I  do." 

The  leaves  whispered  to  the  wind,  the  young  orioles 
chirped  in  their  hanging  nests,  and  Zoe  lay  in  her  russet 
swing,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  blue  distance,  her  Lands  un- 
consciously clasping  Hirne's  book  to  her  breast. 

She  did  not  know  that  a  party  of  horsemen  were  ap- 
proaching the  house  until  they  drew  rein  before  the  gate 
and  hallooed.  She  started  up.  One  of  the  men  was  Henry 
Bronn.  Two  others  were  men  she  had  heard  named  as 
being  of  the  guard  who  had  gone  to  take  the  prisoners  safely 
out  of  the  State.     Why  were  they  here  ? 

Zoe  went  up  to  the  paling  and  returned  their  greeting. 

"  How  is  it  you  have  returned  so  soon  ?"  she  asked. 

There  was  a  short  hesitation  ;  then  one  of  the  men  said, 
with  a  forced  laugh  : 

"  They  got  away  from  us." 

"  Got  away  !    Henry,  how  is  this  ?  " 

The  young  man's  round,  stolid  face  was  pale,  and  his 
eyes  had  a  dazed  expression.     He  shifted  his  glance  away 
from  Zoe's  penetrating  look.     He  hesitated,  and  his  com- 
rade caught  up  the  answer. 
11 


308  WILD    WORK 

^'  They  got  av/ay  from  us,  I  tell  you,  Miss  Zee  ;  didn't 
they,  Henry  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  they  got  away,"  the  boy  said,  trying  to  imitate 
his  companion's  off-hand  way  of  speaking.  But  Zoe  saw 
that  he  seemed  stunned.  Only  some  great  horror  could 
have  so  affected  his  commonplace  nature. 

"How  did  they  get  away  ?"  she  asked,  sternly. 

"  Oh  !  just  got  away  ;  it's  too  long  a  story  to  tell  right 
now.  We  are  in  a  mighty  hurry ;  just  called  to  know  if 
there's  a  fellow  here  named  Dan  Nolan.  Alver  wants  him 
to  report  to  him  right  away.  His  brother's  in  the  calaboose 
at  Cohatchie  for  cutting  up." 

"  Dan  Nolan  is  not  here.  He  went  last  night  to  Cohat- 
chie with  some  men  who  came  from  the  Texas  border." 

"Then  Alver'll  probably  see  him  some  time  to-day. 
Thanks  and  good-day  to  you.  Miss  Zoe.     Come,  boys." 

Henry  was  riding  away  with  the  others,  when  Zoe  de- 
tained him  by  a  word. 

"One  moment,"  she  said;  "Henry,  what  became  of 
those  men  you  went  to  guard  ?  They  did  not  get  away  ;  I 
know  what  that  expression  means.  They  were  killed. 
Henry  Bronn,  did  you  murder  the  men  that  were  under 
your  care  ?  " 

"  I  did  not.  Miss  Zoe.  I  will  come  back  in  an  hour  if 
I  can  slip  away  and  tell  you  all." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Ai^  hour  afterward  it  was  again  dark.  Zoe  sat  where 
she  had  been  sitting  last  night  when  Hirne  had  thrown 
himself  at  her  feet  and  told  her  the  story  of  his  turbulent 


WILD   WORK.  309 

life.  She  had  been  looking  for  him  every  hour  of  the  day. 
She  craved  his  coming  that  she  might  hear  from  him  the 
solution  of  a  doubt  that  ached  at  her  heart.  She  longed 
to  hear  from  his  own  lips  that  he  had  not  disregarded  her 
prayer,  that,  if  it  was  true  these  men  were  murdered,  he 
had  no  hand  in  their  massacre.  She  jumped  up  eagerly 
when  she  heard  some  one  ride  up  to  the  gate.  But  it  was 
Henry  Bronn's  low,  sturdy  figure  that  came  up  the  walk 
and  stood  before  her,  holding  out  his  hand.  She  grasped 
it  and  looked  hard  in  his  face. 

"  You  have  come  to  answer  my  question,  Henry  ?  "  she 
said.  *'What  has  become  of  the  officers  you  went  to 
guard  ?  " 

His  hand  shook  as  she  held  it,  his  eyes  dropped. 

^^Miss  Zoe,  they  got  what  they  deserved,  I  reckon,"  he 
said  at  last. 

"  Henry,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  they  were  killed  ?  " 

''They  are  dead.  Miss  Zoe." 

''  0  God  !  all  of  them  killed  ?  Omar  Witchell  too— 
that  gentle-hearted,  inoffensive  soul,  and  young  Edgeville, 
and  Devene,  who  has  just  married  one  of  our  Southern 
girls,  gray-haired  Howard,  and  Wallace  and  Hollin,  who 
have  wives  here  in  our  midst  and  little  children,  were  all 
these  killed?" 

"All  of  them." 

''Grod  have  mercy  on  the  soul  that  planned  this  dread- 
ful deed,  and  upon  those  who  executed  it." 

"They  deserved  it.  Miss  Zoe.  They  tried  to  stir  up  a 
riot  among  the  blacks. " 

"I  am  glad  you  believe  so.  I  am  glad  to  think  that 
most  of  these  men-slayers  believed  they  were  doing  a  just 
act,  that  they  were  executing  rightful  punishment  upon 
criminals.  I  fear  it  was  a  dreadful  mistake.  I  fear  a  great 
wrong  has  been  done." 


310  WILD    WOES'. 

"Miss  Zoo,  you  know  that  Captain  Witchell  extortioned 
upon  the  people." 

"Should  his  sins  be  visited  upon  the  heads  of  these 
men  ?  Should  a  suspicion  be  punished  as  if  it  was  a  cer- 
tainty ?  But  all  discussion  is  wasted  breath  now.  The 
deed  is  done.  There  is  one  thing  I  must  know.  You  say 
the  guard  did  not  kill  the  men — who  did  ?  " 

"A  mob  that  followed  us." 

"And  who  composed  that  mob  ?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "There  were  so  many  strangers 
here,"  he  said,  evasively,  "no  telling  who  did  anything." 

"Why  did  not  the  guard  try  to  defend  the  men  that 
were  in  their  charge  ?  " 

Again  he  shook  his  head.  "They  never  helped  ;  none 
of  them  that  I.saw,"  he  said,  "but — I  mustn't  say,  though  ; 
I  won't  accuse  anybody,  for  I  don't  know.  But  it  was  very 
strange.  I  know  I  never  once  suspected.  It  came  so  sud- 
den and  awful ;  it  make^  my  head  whirl  to  think  of  it.  I 
see  it  all  before  me  e^ery  minute  ;  I  see  Omar's  face,  I  hear 
their  groans  in  my  ears.  Oh  !  Miss  Zoe,  it  served  'em  right, 
I  s'pose,  but  it  was  awful." 

"  Henry,  will  you  not  tell  me  who  did  it  ?  "  Zoe  cried, 
trembling.  The  thought  that  Hirne  might  be  the  leader 
in  the  assassination  was  agony  to  her. 

"I  will  tell  you  all  T'know.  We  started  to  carry  the 
men  out  of  the  State.  We  started  in  good  faith  ;  at  least 
I  did.  I  don't  answer  for  anybody  else,  because  I  don't 
know.  I  hardly  knew  the  Captain  of  the  guard  ;  he  seemed 
a  clever  enough  fellow.  The  officers  picked  us  out ;  Omar 
chose  me.  I  knew  him  right  well ;  we  had  camped  out  on 
Lake  Clear,  and  fished  and  hunted  together.  He  was  a 
first-rate  fellow  to  camp  with — so  good-humored  and  so  full 
of  dry  fun.  Edgeville  was  with  us  too.  He  was  a  splendid 
shot,  and  could  tell  such  tales  of  wild  adventure  around 


WILD    WORK.  ^11 


the  camp  fire.     Oh  !  to  think  of  how  I  saw  him  this  morn- 


ing—" 


'^Goon." 

''The  sun  was  an  hour  high  when  we  started.  The 
men  had  sat  up  all  night,  fixing  up  their  business  and 
writing  letters.  I  carried  the  letters  up  to  their  wives,  and 
brought  back  the  things  they  wanted  to  take  with  them." 

"  Did  they  not  see  their  families  to  say  good-by  ?" 

"No,  it  was  against  orders.     The  women  had  hoped  to 
see  them  up  to  the  last.     It  was  right  pitiful  to  hear  them 
cry  over  the  letters.     I  sat  down  on  the  gallery  while  they 
read  'em  and  packed  up  the  things.     I  knew  Mark  Hollin's 
wife.     They  stopped  at  our  house  when  they  first  came  to 
this  country.     She  came  out  to  me,  and  took  my  hand  and 
said  :  '  Henry,  stand  hj  my  husband.    Keep  good  faith  with 
them  all,  and  we  will  pray  for  you  for  ever,'     Her  little 
boy  knew  me  and  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck.     '  I  send 
this  kiss  to  my  pa,'  he  said  ;  'tell  him  we're  comin'  to  him 
soon.     Ma  has  sent  him  my  picture  and  hers,  and  I  put  his 
diamond  buttons  in  his  shirt  myself.    Mamma,  what  makes 
you  cry  so  ?  you  know  we  are  going  where  pa  is  right 
soon.'     I  think  Witchell's  sisters  had  fears  of  what  would 
happen.     But  the  men  seemed  in  pretty  good  spirits  when 
we   started.      They  looked  pale  and  anxio^^is,  but  Omar 
spoke  to  us  pleasantly,  and  so  did  Devene,  tlK)Ugh  he  kept 
his  eyes  looking  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  at  the  house 
we  could  just  see,  where  his  wife  stood  at  the  window  kiss- 
ing her  hand  to  him.     She  had  been  bent  on  coming  to  see 
him,  and  he  had  to  send  a  special  messenger  to  tell  her  not 
to  try  it.     Edgeville  joked  and  laughed.     He  had  sent  a 
letter  by  me  to  Auzete  Blair  the  night  before,  and  I  had 
brought  back  an  answer  to  it  and  her  picture ;  I  saw  her 
crying  as  she  wrote.     There  was  a  crowd  round  the  door 
when  the  prisoners  came  out  and  mounted,  but  they  all 


312  WILD    WORK 

fell  back,  and  we  rode  out  quietly,  nobody  following  us. 
Alver  pledged  them  that  they  should  be  taken  care  of. 
Then  he  came  up  and  took  Rick  Waldon — the  Captain  of 
the  guard — aside  and  talked  to  him  for  some  minutes,  and 
then  a  big,  dark-looking  fellow  they  called  Cobb  spoke  a 
few  words  to  the  Captain  and  laughed ;  I  saw  that  same 
man  afterward  with  the  mob  that  did  the  killing.  He  had 
his  hat  slouched  over  his  eyes,  but  I  knew  him. 

'^We  took  the  road  up  the  river  to  S ,     The  officers 

were  riding  fast  horses  ;  they  were  fresh,  and  wanted  to  go. 
^  Not  too  fast,'  the  Captain  said,  and  we  checked  in  a  lit- 
tle. We  had  put  a  good  many  miles  between  us  and  Co- 
hatch  ie.  When  we  mounted  a  hill  Wallace  looked  back  and 
pointed  to  a  cloud  of  dust  way  behind  us,  half  a  mile  off, 
I  reckon,  and  asked  :  '  What's  that  ? '  and  Rick  told  him  it 
was  some  of  the  boys  of  the  guard  whose  horses  could  not 
keep  up.  Every  time  we  mounted  a  rise  we  saw  that 
cloud  of  dust,  and  once  we  saw  men  on  horseback  through 
it,  and  Howard  said:  'Let's  ride  faster,  boys,'  and  they 
rode  on  at  a  quicker  pace,  and  we  were  forced  to  keep  up 
with  them.  At  last  Rick  Waldon  said  he  was  tired,  and 
our  horses  were  getting  blown.  He  would  not  go  a  step 
farther  until  he  rested.  Here  was  a  watermelon  patch,  and 
yonder,  a  little  farther  off,  was  a  store  and  a  cistern.  We'd 
stnke  a  halt  and  send  for  water  and  melons  while  the 
horses  took  a  rest.  So  we  got  down.  It  was  just  beyond 
our  parish  line  ;  I  remember  that,  for  I  heard  somebody  say 
so,  and  Devene  looked  quickly  at  Witchell  and  seemed  dis- 
turbed, but  Omar  didn't  seem  to  mind  his  look.  He  was 
sitting  on  the  grass,  and  was  pale  and  absent-minded. 
Edgeville  was  as  gay  as  ever,  but  I  saw  him,  when  he  had 
his  back  to  the  men  pretending  to  stroke  his  horse's  neck, 
take  Miss  Blair's  picture  out  and  look  at  it,  and  his  face 
got  sober  as  he  looked.     Some  of  the  men  were  cutting 


WILD    WORK.  313 

watermelons.  Waldon  was  standing  by  liis  horse,  looking 
down  the  road  we  had  just  come  over.     Omar  was  telling 

me  not  to  go  away  after  we  got  to  S without  seeing  him 

first,  as  he  would  have  a  letter  for  his  wife  he  wanted  to 
trust  to  my  care,  when,  suddenly,  Howard  cried  out :  '  Look  ! 
see  all  those  men  with  guns  ;  what  does  that  mean  ? '  We 
turned  our  heads  and  saw  a  posse  of  armed  men  on  horse- 
back turn  the  bend  in  the  road  and  come  galloping  up  to 
us.  Deyene  cried  out :  *  Mount  and  ride  for  your  lives. ' 
They  ran  for  their  horses  and  jumped  into  the  saddles  as 
quick  as  thought,  but  their  pursuers  were  upon  them. 
The  foremost  man  cried  out :  ^  Surrender  ! '  and  the  others 
yelled  the  word  after  him.  The  mob  began  firing.  Omar 
turned  in  his  saddle,  with  the  blood  running  out  of  a  wound 
in  his  neck. 

"  'Give  me  a  gun  ;  I  don't  want  to  die  like  a  dog,'  he 
cried.  The  bullets  rained  upon  him,  and  he  fell  under  the 
horses'  feet.  Edgeville  cried  out  :  '  I'll  die  before  I  sur- 
render.' He  dashed  ahead  and  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill ;  a  bullet  struck  him  in  the  head ;  he  leaped  up  out 
of  his  saddle  and  fell  to  the  ground  dead.  Devene  was 
killed  at  this  same  place.  Wallace  and  Hollin  and  How- 
ard got  some  distance  away,  but  they  were  caught  and  taken 
to  Bard's  store,  a  mile  or  so  beyond,  and  there  put  an  end 
to.  Howard  was  shot  first.  The  old  man  trembled  like  a 
leaf.  He  got  down  on  his  knees  and  begged  them  to  spare 
him.  Wallace,  too,  prayed  to  be  spared.  He  said  :  '  God  is 
my  witness,  I  have  never  done  a  wrong  to  any  man  in  this 
country.  I  am  only  a  magistrate.  Witchell  sent  for  me 
here  to  superintend  his  business.  He  gave  me  a  home  in 
his  house  and  this  office.  I  have  held  the  office  only  a  lit- 
tle while.     I  have  tried  to  do  what  was  right.' 

''They  shot  both  of  them.  I  counted  the  places  where 
ninety  buckshot  had  entered  Howard's  body.     Mark  Hollin 


31-4  WILD   WORE. 

stood  and  saw  them  shot.  Wlien  his  turn  came  he  said  : 
'  Let  me  say  a  prayer.'  They  suffered  him  to  kneel  down, 
and  he  prayed  in  silence  a  little  while.  Then  he  rose  up, 
and  said,  calmly  :  *  There  is  only  one  thing  I  ask  of  you  ; 
that  is,  for  God's  sake  don't  harm  my  wife  and  my  little 
child.     Let  them  go  away  in  safety.     That  is  all.' 

*^He  was  so  cool  and  brave  they  stood  with  their  re- 
loaded guns  in  their  hands  as  if  they  thought  it  almost  a 
pity  to  kill  him.  As  they  were  going  to  shoot,  a  man 
galloped  up  and  cried  out :  '  A  thousand  dollars  if  you 
will  spare  the  prisoner's  life  ! '  They  turned  on  him,  and 
he  said  :  *  I  don't  make  the  offer  myself ;  I  do  it  for  an- 
other man.  He's  got  a  fall  from  his  horse  hack  yonder, 
and  he's  not  able  to  come  on.  But  he's  got  the  money, 
for  I  know  him.  He  said  he'd  give  a  thousand  dollars  for 
every  life  you  spared,  and  I  am  only  in  time  for  one,  I 
see.' 

''Some  cried  'Humbug !'  and  some  'Plank  down  your 
money ;  let's  see  the  color  of  it ! '  and  several  called  out 
to  Mark  HoUin  to  run  into  the  cotton-field,  they'd  give 
him  a  chance  for  his  life.  But  he  stood  still  and  said  : 
'  You  have  killed  all  my  friends,  now  kill  me.  I  will  not 
run  for  my  life.'  Well,  they  shot  him.  I  went  up  and 
looked  at  him.  His  face  was  as  calm  as  if  he  had  dropped 
to  fleep.  I  don't  know  what  they  did  with  the  bodies  ;  I 
went  away.  I  felt  sick  and  numbed,  as  if  a  bullet  had 
entered  my  own  head.  The  looks  of  those  dead  men  will 
never  get  out  of  my  mind.  As  I  rode  back  and  passed 
where  the  others  were  lying,  I  saw  one  of  the  men  taking 
off  Edgeville's  watch  and  chain.  His  pocket-book  was  on 
the  ground  open,  and  close  to  it  was  Miss  Auzete's  letter 
and  picture.  I  picked  them  up,  and  I've  got  them  here  in 
my  pocket.  I'll  give  them  to  you  to  return  to  her.  I  saw 
one  man  taking  out  the  diamond  stud-buttons  from  Mark 


WILD    WORK.  315 

Hollin's  shirt — the  same  his  little  boy  told  me  he  had  put 
in.  I  couldn't  help  feeling  awful  bad  about  the  wives  and 
children  of  the  men,  who  were  praying  and  hoping  they 
were  safe,  while  they  lay  there  dead.  They  deserved  to  be 
punished,  I  know,  but  it  looked  like  a  bad  day's  work.  Miss 
Zoe."* 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Zoe  had  not  once  interrupted  his  recital.  Horror  had 
held  her  mute.  When  at  last  she  spoke  her  voice  was 
unnaturally  calm. 

''  You  said  the  party  of  lynchers  had  a  leader.  Who 
was  he  ?  " 

"  They  said  he  was  a  Texan.  I  don't  remember  his 
name.     They  called  him  Captain— something." 

"  Was  it— was  it— Hirne  ?  " 

"  Something  like  that,  I  think.  A  man  with  long  hair 
and  a  keen  eye  ;  rides  like  an  Indian ;  wore  a  hunting- 
shirt  and  no  coat.     Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"I  — I  believe  I  do,"  she  articulated  faintly.  Her 
hands  were  tightly  locked,  her  features  drawn  and  pale. 
Henry  Bronn  looked  at  her  with  distress  in  his  good-na- 
tured face. 

"I  ought  not  to  have  told  you  this  dreadful  tale,"  he 
said.  "I  see  how  it  shocks  you,  and  no  wonder.  Miss 
Zoe,  you  don't  blame  me,  do  you  ?  "  -^ 

^The  circumstances  of  the  pursuit  and  killing  of  these  six  office-holders 
are  given  ahnost  word  for  word  as  they  were  told  me  by  one  of  the  men 
who  accompanied  the  prisoners  as  a  guard.  The  man  who  offered  a  thou- 
sand dollars  for  every  life  the  mob  would  spare  was  a  Southerner. 


316  WILD    WORK. 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  touch  hers.  Involuntarily,  she 
shuddered  and  drew  away. 

*' Why  did  not  you — why  did  not  the  guard  defend  tlie 
men  they  were  sent  to  protect  ?  "  she  asked. 

'^  The  pursuers  swooped  down  upon  us  so  sudden,  and 
went  through  their  work  so  quick,  we  were  all  taken  aback  ; 
I  was  at  least ;  I  hardly  had  time  to  wonder  what  it  meant 
before  it  was  all  over.  Then,  too,  the  Captain  of  the  guard 
gave  us  no  orders  to  defend  the  men.  And  you  know  they 
were  Radicals,  and  were  found  guilty  of  stirring  up  the 
negroes  to  rob  and  murder  us.  Do  you  blame  me,  Miss 
Zoe?" 

'*0  Henry!  do  not  ask  me,"  she  cried,  lifting  her 
white  face  from  her  hands.  "  There  has  been  terrible  blame 
somewhere.  I  can  not  reason  about  it.  I  am  stunned. 
But  I  hope — I  believe  that  our  people  went  into  this  blind- 
fold.    They  were  deceived. " 

'^The  wives  of  these  men,"  she  said,  presenth^,  '^have 
they  heard  the  fate  of  their  husbands  ?  " 

''Not  yet.  Some  one  will  be  sent  this  evening  to  tell 
them.  All  the  money  in  the  parish  treasury  could  not  hire 
me  to  be  the  one." 

Zoe  turned  away  and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  veranda. 
The  picture  of  the  murdered  men,  the  shrieking  wives,  and 
frightened,  weeping  children  seemed  present  before  her, 
seemed  shaped  in  fire  upon  her  brain.  And  there,  too, 
burned  the  words  :  ^'  He  was  the  leader  in  this  dark  work. 
He  was  the  chief  of  the  assassins — he,  the  man  you  love." 

She  knew  now  by  the  sharp  pang  at  her  heart  that  she 
did  love  him.  It  was  for  his  sake  she  had  so  often  disap- 
pointed her  betrothed.  It  was  his  image  that  had  driven 
Royal's  from  her  breast — Royal,  her  kind,  true  lover. 

She  had  been  false  to  him  for  the  sake  of  this  man  who 
had  proved  so  unworthy  ;  who  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  her 


WILD    WORK.  317 

prayers,  and  gratified  his  passion  for  revenge  in  defiance  of 
her  warning  that  the  blood  he  would  shed  might  be  inno- 
cent blood. 

"He  is  a  savage,  a  monomaniac  !"  cried  Zoe.  "His 
courage  is  only  an  instinct  for  blood.  Oh  !  I  hate  him.  I 
must  hate  him  ! " 

She  had  controlled  herself  enough  to  ask  Henry  Bronn 
to  go  in  to  supper,  and  see  him  seated  at  the  table,  talking 
to  Hugh.  Then,  no  longer  able  to  bear  the  restraint  of 
another's  presence,  she  went  out  into  the  orchard.  She 
threw  herself  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  old  apple- 
tree  and  pressed  her  forehead  to  its  vine-mufSed  trunk,  that 
the  dewy  coolness  might  quench  the  burning  in  her  brain 
and  enable  her  to  think  more  calmly. 

Before  she  rose  to  her  feet  again  she  had  made  her  re- 
solve. She  would  not  see  this  man  again,  she  would  not 
trust  herself  to  look  another  time  into  his  eyes,  to  listen  to 
his  voice  that  had  such  power  over  her.  This  night  she 
would  write  to  Royal.  She  had  not  replied  to  his  last  letter 
in  which  he  had  urged  her  to  name  a  day  for  the  marriage 
she  had  so  long  put  off.  She  would  write  to-night  and 
name  the  day — an  early  day  it  must  be.  She  must  put  the 
irrevocable  vow  between  herself  and  this  man  who  had 
gained  such  a  hold  upon  her.  When  she  was  the  wife  of 
Royal  West — that  amiable,  law-abiding,  honored  gentleman 
— she  would  forget  this  wandering  barbarian.  Her  regard 
for  him  was  only  a  romantic  fancy ;  Roy  had  assured  her 
that  it  was — a  wild  seed,  passion  blown,  that  had  dropped 
into  her  heart's  garden  in  some  unguarded  hour. 

But  ah  !  what  root  it  had  taken  !  What  a  pang  it  cost 
to  pluck  it  up  ! 

When  she  rose  next  morning  after  a  restless  night  she 
was  completely  unnerved.  The  terrible  shock  of  the  even- 
ing before,  coming  upon  her  after  the  days  of  anxiety  and 


318  WILD    WORK. 

nights  of  watching  she  had  endured,  had  so  unnerved  her 
that  she  found  her  hand  shaking  as  she  returned  Hirne's 
note-book  to  the  pocket  of  his  coat.  If  she  was  so  weak, 
could  she  trust  herself  to  resist  his  importunities  to  see  her 
when  he  came  ? 

Parties  of  horsemen,  coming  from  Cohatchie,  crossed 
the  river  from  time  to  time.  Some  of  these  were  the  Tex- 
ans  who  had  been  with  Hirne,  now  returning  to  their 
homes.  She  longed  to  ask  them  if  their  leader  had  really 
been  one  of  the  assassins,  but  the  dread  of  having  her  slen- 
der hope  swept  away  held  her  silent.  The  men  appeared 
discontented  and  gloomy,  indisposed  to  talk.  The  fever  of 
excitement  had  died  out.  Their  hasty  rush  to  the  rescue 
of  Cohatchie  seemed  to  them  a  mere  fool's  errand. 

At  last  Zoe  heard  one  of  them  speak  of  Hirne.  He  had 
stopped  to  get  a  drink  of  water,  and,  while  he  was  still  on 
his  horse  at  the  gate,  two  other  men  rode  up. 

"  Where  is  Hirne  ?  "  asked  the  first  comer. 

'^  Don't  know,"  was  the  response.  *' Haven't  laid  eyes 
on  him  since  he  and  the  others  followed  the  fellows  that  had 
the  Rads  in  tow." 

'*  You  didn't  go  with  'em  then?  Neither  did  I,  and  I 
ain't  sorry  I  kept  out  of  that  scrape. " 

A  dead  weight  of  certainty  crushed  out  the  feeble  hope 
Zoe  had  cherished.  To  see  him  now  would  be  unmixed 
pain.  Speak  to  him  she  would  not.  Yet,  with  an  incon- 
sistency that  was  followed  by  keen  self -rebuke,  she  caught 
herself  looking  among  the  horsemen  for  that  leonine  head 
and  proud,  easy  figure  which  would  be  seen  above  them 
all. 

"  If  I  could  go  away  before  he  came  !"  she  said,  with 
tears  of  self-contempt  springing  to  her  eyes. 

Chance  favored  her  wish.  Shortly  after  ten  o'clock  a 
boat  coming  down  the  river  blew  the  three-whistle  signal 


WILD    WORK.  319 

for  stopping  as  slie  rounded  the  bend  just  above  Vincent's 
house. 

^*  It  is  mother/'  Mrs.  Vincent  called  out,  joyfully.  *^  She 
said  she  would  come  to  nurse  me  as  soon  as  father's  rheu- 
matism was  better." 

The  boat  stopped.  A  little  roly-poly  matron,  with  nu- 
merous bags  and  bundles,  was  handed  ashore,  and  soon  Mrs. 
Hugh  and  the  new  baby  were  hugged  by  a  pair  of  fat, 
motherly  arms. 

A  sudden  resolve  came  to  Zoe.  The  boat  had  made  fast 
to  a  great  ash  tree,  and  the  deck  hands  were  running  up 
the  steep  bank  to  take  on  wood.  Zoe  said  to  her  sister-in- 
law  : 

''Monde,  you  and  Hugh  are  improving  so  fast  now,  and 
you  have  your  mother  with  you,  I  believe  I  will  run  away 
for  a  little  change.     I'll  go  down  with  Captain  Link  as  far 

as  N to  see  Mother  Doremus.     You  know  she  is  Mother 

Superior  at  the  Sacred  Heart  now.  I  have  not  seen  her 
since  I  left  St.  Joseph's." 

"Go,  by  all  means,  my  dear.  You  certainly  need 
change,  and  rest.  Get  yourself  ready  while  Mandy  packs 
up  the  things  you  will  need." 

Before  the  last  cord  of  wood  had  been  piled  on  the 
steamer's  lower  deck  Zoe  was  on  board  for  her  trip  to  the 
convent  at  N thirty  miles  below. 

Scarcely  was  the  smoke  of  the  boat  out  of  sight  when 
Captain  Hirne  rode  down  to  the  river  at  the  ferry  opposite 
Vincent's  house.  He  looked  pale  and  grave ;  there  were 
lines  of  bodily  pain  about  his  mouth,  but  his  eye  lighted  as 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  lady's  dress  on  the  piazza. 

"Are  all  safe  and  well  ?"  he  asked  of  Tom  Ludd,  who 
came  in  the  flat  to  put  him  across. 

"Yes,  sir.  Mr.  Hugh  is  up;  Miss  Zoe  is  jes'  gone 
away." 


320  WILD    WORK. 

'^Gone!"  The  light  died  out  of  the  Captain's  face. 
"Where  did  she  go?" 

"  She  went  on  de  steamboat  Mabel  to  de  city,  I  b'lieve. 
Heap  uv  her  frien's  live  dere,  an'  de  gen'leman  she's  goin' 
to  marry.  Him  and  his  sister  come  up  here  las'  spring. 
Mighty  handsome,  high-flyin'  gen'leman,  and  rich  as  Crishus. 
"Won't  you  go  by  de  house,  Cap'n,  and  have  a  glass  er  claret 
wid  Mars  Hugh  ?    Mandy  done  carried  your  coat  up  dere." 

"  No,  Tom,  I  am  tired,  and  must  get  on.  I  hurt  my  leg 
by  a  fall  yesterday.     Bring  the  coat  out  to  the  gate  for  me. 

Tom  brought  the  coat. 

^'  God  bless  you,  Cap'n  Hirne  !  Me  and  Mandy  '11  never 
forgit  you,"  he  said  as  his  fingers  closed  over  the  half  dol- 
lars Hirne  put  into  his  hand. 

"So  that's  all  over,"  the  Texan  said  to  himself  as  he 
rode  away.  "What  else  could  I  expect  ?  What  is  there  in 
me  for  a  woman  like  her  to  care  for  ?  But  I  would  have 
loved  her.     0  God  !  how  I  love  her  !  " 

A  quiver  passed  over  his  face,  and  his  eyes  grew  misty. 
Then,  setting  his  lips  firmly,  he  shook  his  head  backward 
and  put  spurs  to  his  horse. 

"  I'll  shut  down  on  this  nonsense  at  once  and  for  ever," 
he  muttered. 

But  the  thunder-cloud  then  gathering  in  the  west  was 
not  gloomier  than  his  face  as  he  rode  on  and  entered  the 
swamp. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

There  is  a  legend  of  a  man  who  wrested  from  a  wizard 
the  magic  word  for  invoking  spirits.  With  it  he  sum- 
moned a  familiar  imp  and  set  it  to  doing  menial  work  for 


WILD    WORK.  321 

him — bringing  water  for  his  cabbage-beds.  But  the  cun- 
ning wizard  had  withheld  a  portion  of  the  spell.  The  man 
had  no  power  to  dismiss  the  spirit  he  had  called  up ;  so 
water  continued  to  be  brought  until  not  only  was  the  cab- 
bage-bed flooded,  but  the  man  and  his  house  were  swept 
away. 

Both  Alver  and  Witchell  had  invoked  the  demon  of 
Lawlessness  to  assist  them  in  their  purposes,  and  the  results 
had  gone  beyond  their  intentions.  The  imp,  once  sum- 
moned, would  not  down  at  their  bidding.  Witchell  had 
thought  that  by  causing  a  few  mischieyous,  but  not  malig- 
nant, acts  to  be  done  to  the  negroes  he  would  create  the  im- 
pression that  Ku-klux  were  abroad  in  the  parish,  and  obtain 
the  military  force  he  wanted  for  the  protection  of  himself 
and  his  friends,  and  his  ballots  at  the  time  of  the  election. 
But  his  unlawful  scheme  had  recoiled  upon  his  head.  His 
intercepted  instructions  had  suggested  the  very  plot  which 
had  eventuated  in  the  death  of  his  friends  and  the  downfall 
of  his  hopes  of  supremacy  in  the  State. 

Alver  had  summoned  the  fiend  of  Kiot  to  work  his 
purpose  of  freeing  the  parish  from  carpet-bag  rule.  He 
found  himself  unable  to  control  the  evil  force  he  had  in- 
voked. It  had  swept  on  until  its  fury  was  quenched  in 
blood.  His  female  accomplice  had  foreseen  this,  and  count- 
ed upon  it,  when  she  said  to  him  :  '^Set  the  ball  in  motion 
and  leave  its  course  to  chance." 

Yet  even  she  seemed  appalled  at  the  horror  of  the  cli- 
max she  had  worked  to  attain.  She  was  on  horseback  re- 
turning from  a  ride  when  the  news  of  the  massacre  reached 
her.  At  the  same  moment  her  ears  were  filled  with  the 
agonized  screams  of  the  bereaved  women  who  had  gathered 
like  frightened  doves  in  Omar's  cottage.  Her  face  blanched  ; 
she  wheeled  her  horse  and  rode  at  wild  speed  back  from 
the  town. 


322  WILD    WORK, 

When  the  terrible  tidings  reached  Witchell,  it  utterly 
crushed  him  at  first.  Resentment  was  drowned  in  remorse- 
ful anguish,  and  the  stern,  cold  man  sat  for  long  minutes 
-with  bowed  head  and  shaking  frame.  Omar's  faithfulness, 
Omar's  simple-hearted  devotion,  rushed  over  him  with  the 
keen  sense  of  loss,  and  he  groaned  out : 

"  My  brother,  my  brother  !  would  to  God  I  had  died  in 
your  place  ! " 

He  started  up  at  last.  His  hands  were  clenched,  his 
features  convulsed.  He  called  down  fearful  curses  on  the 
slayers  of  his  friends. 

''  They  shall  suffer  for  it,  they  shall  suffer  for  it !"  he 
swore.  '*The  laggards  at  Washington  can  not  now  refuse 
me  the  troops.  With  the  cavalry  at  my  back,  I  will  hunt 
down  the  last  murderer  among  them  and  bring  him  to 
punishment." 

The  news  of  the  Cohatchie  tragedy  flashed  over  the 
country  from  end  to  end.  It  roused  the  fury  of  the  North, 
the  grief  and  indignation  of  the  conservative  South.  The 
Northern  press  denounced  the  people  of  the  revolutionized 
parish  as  a  "pack  of  cold-blooded  murderers."  They  for- 
got that  in  small  as  in  large  revolutions  the  people  are  mere 
instruments  played  upon  by  some  designing  leader — some 
schemer,  who  has  industriously  collected  all  the  explosive 
material,  laid  the  train,  and  fired  it  by  a  bold  or  cunning 
stroke.  Had  those  who  sweepingly  denounced  the  people 
as  murderers  looked  upon  the  little  town  a  few  days  after 
the  bloody  drama,  they  would  have  realized  that  men  may 
be  led  blindly  into  doing  deeds  that  they  look  back  upon 
with  horror  when  the  short  frenzy  is  over.  An  awful  calm 
succeeded  the  tumult.  Men  sat  silent  in  their  homes,  or 
gathered  in  the  streets  in  gloomy  groups.  They  sickened 
with  the  fear  that  now  stole  upon  them  that  they  had 
brought  about  the  shedding  of  innocent  blood. 


WILD   WORK.  323 

A  more  active  fear  quickened  their  pulses.  They  looked 
daily  for  punishment  at  the  hands  of  the  Government. 
They  expected  the  long-talked-of  cavalry  to  swoop  down 
upon  them,  capturing  right  and  left.  But  days  went  by, 
and  no  soldiers  came,  no  arrests  were  made.  What  could 
cause  the  delay  ? 

There  had  been  indignation  meetings  at  the  North, 
councils  at  Washington,  an  investigating  committee  ap- 
pointed to  inquire  into  all  the  particulars  of  the  alarming 
affair,  but  no  active  steps  had  been  taken  to  punish  the 
rebellious  parish,  or  to  arrest  the  ringleader  of  the  revo- 
lution. 

Did  the  Government,  in  spite  of  its  outward  show  of 
indignation,  entertain  a  secret  misgiving  that  the  six  office- 
holders had  deserved  their  fate  ?  Did  they  lend  credence  to 
the  widely-copied  version  of  the  tragedy  which  was  published 
in  the  "  Cohatchie  Times  "  (Alver's  organ)  ?  In  that  account 
it  was  elaborately  shown  that  the  six  office-holders  were 
guilty  of  having  incited  the  negroes  to  a  bloody  outrage, 
and  had  deserved  the  doom  which  the  excited  mob  had  vis- 
ited upon  them,  in  defiance  of  the  committee's  magnani- 
mous sentence  that  the  men  should  only  resign  their  offices 
and  leave  the  State. 

No  doubt  the  heads  of  the  Administration  had  a  secret 
fear  that  much  of  this  might  be  true.  Conscious  of  hav- 
ing, in  so  many  instances,  put  vile  men  in  power  through 
the  South,  they  hesitated  to  punish  an  outrage  that  had 
possibly  been  provoked. 

Else  why  the  long  period  of  inaction  that  lulled  the 
parish  into  fancied  security  ? 

Alver  took  advantage  of  the  interval  to  forward  his 
cause.  For  days  after  the  bloody  culmination  of  his  plot 
he  was  gloomy  and  inactive.  Then  he  roused ;  he  realized 
that  it  needed  promptness  and  energy  to  carry  out  the  ad- 


32i  WILD    WORK. 

Tantage  his  bold  coup  liad  gained.  Many  things  troubled 
him.  In  pursuit  of  his  ambitious  scheme  he  had  neglected 
his  legitimate  business,  and  his  interests  had  suffered.  The 
ten  thousand  dollars  which  were  in  the  parish  treasury  at 
the  time  of  the  killing  of  young  Witchell,  the  tax-receiver, 
he  refused  to  touch,  though  he  could  have  done  so  without 
fear  during  the  time  that  the  parish  was  wholly  under  his 
control.  But  he  was  not  a  mercenary  man.  He  valued 
money  only  as  a  means  to  attain  power.  But  he  had  hon- 
orable instincts  still ;  he  resisted  the  temptation  to  appro- 
priate some  of  the  treasury  funds  to  paying  off  the  men 
who  had  helped  to  bring  about  the  late  crisis,  and  who  were 
now  clamorous  to  be  rewarded.  His  haughty  temper  ill 
brooked  being  under  obligation  to  them,  and  with  difficulty 
he  restrained  himself  when  they  pressed  their  claims  for 
office  and  money.  He  feared  them  more  tlian  he  did  the 
coming  of  the  troops.  If  disappointed,  their  rough  natures 
would  grow  unmanageable  and  everything  would  be  bruited 
abroad. 

And  Alver  saw  a  prospect  of  making  smooth  water  for 
himself.  He  could  not  be  held  responsible  for  the  action 
of  a  miscellaneous  mob,  gathered  from  various  quarters. 
He  could  show  that  he  had  tried  to  calm  this  mob.  He 
ought  not  to  suffer  for  its  misdoing.  He  had  never  in- 
tended, never  foreseen,  this  tragic  termination  to  his  plot. 
He  had  schemed  to  free  his  portion  of  the  State  from  cor- 
rupt, alien  rule,  and  secure  to  the  people  representation  by 
their  own  citizens.  It  was  a  patriotic  motive,  and  the  end 
justified  the  means  he  had  used  to  attain  it.  So  he  rea- 
soned to  calm  his  conscience  and  lull  his  fears. 

Chief  among  these  thorns  in  his  side  was  Cobb.  An- 
other wished  Cobb  out  of  the  way  as  heartily  as  Alver  did. 
He  had  become  a  Damocles's  sword  over  Floyd  Reese.  He 
claimed  her  as  his  reward.     He  had  twice  served  her  pur- 


WILD    WORK.  325 

pose  in  the  accomplisliment  of  her  designs ;  he  had  her 
doubly  in  his  power.  She  knew  that,  if  exasperated,  he  was 
reckless  enough  to  betray  her,  though  it  should  cost  him 
his  life ;  and  so  she  strove  to  conciliate  him,  while  she 
loathed  herself  for  doing  so.  Bad  as  she  was,  hard  and 
cruel,  wearing  without  shame  the  diamond  ring  Cobb  had 
taken  from  the  mutilated  finger  of  one  of  the  murdered 
men,  she  was  woman  enough  to  shrink  from  giving  herself 
to  the  arms  of  a  ruffian.  But  she  feared  him  more  and 
more.  He  was  growing  impatient  and  jealous,  and  she  was 
forced  to  grant  him  interviews,  in  which  she  soothed  and 
coaxed  him  with  all  the  art  in  her  power.  Some  of  these 
interviews  took  place  in  Alver's  parlor.  Cobb  was  more 
presentable  now,  since  he  had  exchanged  his  shabby  disguise 
for  a  decent  suit,  and  trimmed  his  hair  and  beard  ;  still  that 
rough  figure,  that  sensual  mouth  and  lowering  brow,  seemed 
greatly  out  of  place  beside  the  beautiful  face  and  superb 
shape  of  the  adventuress.  Usually  it  was  an-anged  that 
he  should  meet  her  when  she  was  out  riding.  In  some  of 
the  wild  bridle-paths  that  ran  through  deep  forests,  or  along 
steep-banked  bayous,  he  would  be  waiting  for  her.  Earely 
they  rode  where  there  was  a  chance  of  meeting  others  ;  but 
one  afternoon  as  they  left  an  unfrequented  ^^cattle-trail," 
and  came  out  into  the  riverside  road,  they  saw  a  gentleman 
approaching  on  horseback,  riding  beside  a  lady  dressed  in  a 
black  habit  with  a  black  crape  veil  thrown  back  from  her 
very  fair  face.  It  was  Mrs.  Hollin  going  down  to  her  plan- 
tation, and  her  escort  was  Alver.  He  had  shown  every  at- 
tention to  the  widows  of  the  dead  officers,  had  called  upon 
them,  expressed  his  deep  regrets  at  the  fatal  extent  to  which 
the  excitement  had  gone,  had  persisted,  in  spite  of  cold 
looks  and  words,  in  doing  everything  for  their  comfort  and 
rendering  them  every  assistance  in  their  business,  until  the 
poor  ladies,  too  troubled  to  arrange  anything  for  themselves, 


026  WILD    WORK 

and  too  frightened  to  venture  out,  began  to  give  him  their 
confidence,  and  believe  he  must  be  the  one  friend  they  had 
in  this  stranger  land,  and  that  he  had  done  all  he  could  to 
avert  the  fury  of  the  mob  from  their  ill-fated  husbands. 

The  parties  were  embarrassed  on  encountering  each 
other — all  but  Mrs.  Hollin.  Her  pale,  pensive  face  did  not 
change,  but  Floyd  blanched  as  she  met  Alver's  eye.  Cobb 
put  on  his  look  of  swaggering  assurance,  and  Alver's  face 
darkened  and  his  mouth  curled  with  mingled  displeasure 
and  disdain.  When  they  had  passed,  Cobb,  twirling  his 
long  mustache,  said  : 

''  My  lordly  Colonel  that  likes  dirty  work  to  be  done 
for  him,  but  don't  want  it  named  before  him,  seems  to  be 
flirting  with  the  lemon-haired  widow.  That's  rather  fast, 
ain't  it  ?  He's  up  with  that  hump-backed  chap — what's  his 
name — that  had  the  king  put  out  of  the  way  and  courted 
the  queen  as  she  was  following  her  husband's  coffin.  I've 
seen  it  played.     Well,  the  Colonel's  his  match,  ain't  he  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Floyd,  haughtily.  "  He  feels  a  sympathy 
for  those  lonely  ladies.  He  would  do  all  in  his  power  to 
help  them.     You  can  not  understand  his  feelings." 

*^Not  being  a  gentleman  like  him,  you  mean.  Well,  I 
can  see  his  motives.  He  hears  breakers  ahead.  He  thinks 
the  troops  may  come,  and  he  wants  to  make  fair  weather 
with  these  women  before  they  get  here.  He  makes  out  his 
case  to  them.  There's  nobody  to  contradict  it.  The  darkies 
are  afraid,  and  the  women  never  see  anybody  except  him. 
He's  the  plausiblest  scamp  in  creation.  He's  got  you  under 
his  thumb.  You're  miserable  now,  for  fear  he  don't  care 
for  you.  You're  jealous  of  that  yellow-haired  woman,  and 
you're  holding  back  from  me  on  his  account. " 

He  had  blundered  on  the  truth,  or  he  had  watched 
Floyd  with  such  jealous  scrutiny  that  he  had  discovered  it. 
She  was  made  half  frantic  at  times  by  the  consciousness 


WILD   WORK,  327 

that  she  was  losing  hold  upon  Alver.  Ever  since  those 
two  days  in  which  he  had  secluded  himself  after  the  death 
of  the  six  ofi&cers  he  had  sent  off  under  guard,  he  had 
seemed  to  feel  a  constraint  in  Floyd's  presence.  He  an- 
swered her  abruptly,  he  kept  his  brow  bent  and  moody  in 
her  presence,  and,  with  a  woman's  singular  inconsistency, 
she  now  became,  for  the  first  time,  deeply  in  love  with  the 
man  she  had  before  pretended  to  love  for  a  purpose.  His 
coldness  was  gall  and  bitterness  to  her  ;  his  slight  shudder 
when  she  placed  her  hand  upon  his  brow  made  her  feel  that 
he  associated  her  always  with  the  horror  of  that  massacre. 

The  days  went  by.  The  widows  of  the  dead  officers  went 
back  to  their  relatives,  and  still  no  movement  had  been 
taken  to  punish  the  lawless  action  of  the  parish.  "They 
believe  the  published  statement,"  thought  Alver.  "  Or  they 
think  it  will  be  hard  to  disprove  it.  They  will  send  their 
investigating  committee  to  New  Orleans  and  make  a  show 
of  inquiry,  but  they  will  be  afraid  to  stir  deep,  lest  they 
turn  up  more  offensive  matter.  They  have  sneaking  fears 
that  the  statement  of  a  plot  to  kill  and  rob  may  be  true, 
and,  while  they  make  a  pretense  of  inquiry,  they  will  take 
no  actual  steps  to  search  truly  or  to  punish,  for  fear  inves- 
tigation may  confirm  the  crime  of  their  men.  They  will 
not  send  the  troops." 

This  reasoning  had  much  truth  to  found  itself  upon, 
and  no  action  might  have  been  taken  but  for  one  thing. 
Those  who  believed  that  Marshall  Witchell  would  abandon 
his  hold  upon  the  parish,  in  the  horror  and  dismay  caused 
by  the  death  of  his  brother  and  his  friends,  did  not  know 
the  man.  Grief  held  him  paralyzed  for  a  while;  then  his 
will  aroused,  made  stronger  by  the  opposition  against  him, 
made  fierce  by  the  revengeful  thirst  that  now  mixed  with 
his  desire  to  succeed.  These  people — these  murderers  of 
his  brother — he  said  to  himself,  should  feel  his  yoke  as  they 


32S  WILD    WORK. 

had  never  felt  it  before.  lie  would  show  them  that  he 
would  succeed,  and  all  who  had  conspired  against  his 
friends  should  feel  the  full  sting  of  punishment,  if  not  di- 
rectly at  the  hands  of  the  Government,  then  indirectly 
during  his  administration  of  office  among  them. 

After  persistent  appeals  he  obtained  the  troops  and 
started  with  them  up  the  river  on  one  of  the  larger  boats 
now  beginning  to  ply  the  rising  stream. 

They  arrived  without  warning.  The  boat  stopped  at  the 
landing,  and  the  uniformed  men  and  horses  came  out  in 
numbers  that  struck  dismay  to  the  towns-people.  Captain 
Witchell  was  among  them.  Floyd  chanced  to  see  him  be- 
fore Alver  did.  His  cold,  determined  eye  filled  her  with 
dread.  She  hurried  to  Alver  and  begged  him  to  fly  at 
once.  '^  If  you  had  seen  WitchelFs  face  you  would  know 
that  he  means  to  sift  this  matter  to  the  bottom,  and  to 
punish  every  man  connected  with  it." 

"  He  has  not  that  power,"  answered  Alver.  *'  He  may 
arrest  and  try  ;  he  has  no  proof  to  convict.  I  will  not  run 
away.  I  will  stand  my  ground.  Let  them  put  me  in 
prison,  let  them  try  me.  They  can  not  find  me  guilty.  I 
am  not  guilty  of  those  men's  deaths.  I  will  nominate  my 
ticket  in  prison  and  win  the  day,  if  any  fair  election  can  be 
held  in  the  land." 

^'  Alver,  for  heaven's  sake  leave  at  once.  I  ordered  your 
horse  to  be  saddled  as  I  came  by  the  stable.  Every  one  is 
running  away.  I  saw  Cobb,  Waldon,  and  Hayne  on  the 
top  of  the  hill  with  their  horses  at  full  speed.  The  troops 
have  begun  arresting  already.  At  least  keep  out  of  the 
way  until  I  can  find  out  for  y/ou  the  extent  of  the  danger 
that  is  to  be  feared.  They  say  Witchell  has  every  man 
down  on  his  black  list." 

"I  know  that.  I  know  every  man  has  been  spotted. 
They  have  had  spies  and  detectives  among  us  for  a  month." 


WILD    WORK.  329 

^^  And  you  will  not  go  ?  " 

"  No  ;  to  go  will  be  giving  up  all  we  have  been  working 
for.     Strange  that  you  advise  it." 

^*  True,  for  the  moment  I  thought  only  of  your  safety," 
the  woman  said,  with  tears  springing  into  her  eyes.  *'  Per- 
haps it  is  best  you  should  remain  and  be  cool  and  fearless, 
as  you  know  how  to  be.  Arrest  and  imprisonment  will 
endear  you  to  the  people  ;  and,  when  the  trial  comes,  noth- 
ing can  be  proved  against  you.  Circumstances  favor  you. 
You  can  show  that  it  was  right  to  arrest  and  dismiss  the 
officers.  You  can  show  proofs  of  their  guilt  strong  enough 
to  authorize  this  ;  with  their  killing  you  had  nothing  to  do. 
That  was  the  work  of  a  mob  of  strange  men,  over  which 
you  had  no — Oh — see  !  they  are  coming."  She  broke  off, 
catching  her  breath  as  a  party  of  cavalrymen  with  an  officer 
at  their  head  rode  up  to  the  gate. 

Alver  received  them  with  graceful  urbanity.  When  ar- 
rested he  smilingly  signified  his  willingness  to  accompany 
them,  and  going  in,  followed  by  two  soldiers,  soothed  his 
wife,  clasped  her  and  his  children  in  his  arms,  kissed  them, 
and  said:  '^Now  I  am  ready."  His  papers  had  all  been 
secured  and  his  business  arrangements  made  beforehand  in 
fear  of  his  being  suddenly  taken  up. 

Floyd  came  to  the  door  as  the  three  were  passing  out 
along  the  corridor.  Turning  to  the  soldiers  with  her  per- 
suasive smile,  she  said  :  "  Gentlemen,  allow  me  a  private 
word  with  your  prisoner  while  you  stand  guard  here  at  the 
door.     You  see,  there  is  but  one  door  to  this  room." 

They  bowed  low,  struck  with  admiration,  such  as  all 
men  conceived  for  this  fair  woman.  She  laid  her  hand 
upon  Alver's  and  drew  him  into  the  room  ;  her  fingers 
closed  upon  his  with  a  firm,  cheering  grasp. 

*' Courage,"  she  said.  '*I  will  be  outside  to  work  for 
you  ;  I  will  write  and  report  to  you,  or  I  will  come  and  tell 


330  WILD    WORK. 

you  face  to  face  how  all  is  going.  I  will  be  permitted  to 
see  you.  IIow  glad  I  am  that  you  are  not  to  be  taken  away  ! 
I  heard  them  tell  you  so." 

**  We  are  only  to  be  confined  in  the  Court  House  and 
guarded,  though  I  fear  that  we  will  be  taken  to  New  Orleans 
to  be  tried  there.  I  don't  fear  the  issue,  but  I  regret  to 
lose  time  from  my  affairs  here.  I  shall  nominate  my  ticket, 
and  hope  to  be  out  in  time  to  carry  the  election.  If  I  am 
not,  my  friends  must  work  for  our  cause.  I  know  that  you 
will,  my  brave  heart.  Keep  a  watch  upon  Cobb  and  Yent ; 
they  may  turn  traitors.  Keep  them  silent  by  frightening 
or  coaxing,  as  you  think  best.  Don't  expose  yourself  to 
danger  or  comment,  and  do  not  forget  that  my  hopes  are, 
in  a  great  measure,  in  your  hands." 

He  had  not  spoken  so  kindly  to  her  in  weeks.  But  now 
her  face  was  close  to  his,  her  eyes  wet,  her  mouth  tremu- 
lous. She  looked  womanly.  He  touched  her  cheek  with 
his  hand  ;  a  warm  tear  fell  upon  it.  He  shuddered ;  the 
thought  of  warm,  dropping  blood  came  into  his  mind. 

He  hastily  unloosed  her  hands  from  their  hold  of  him, 
saying :  *'  I  must  not  tax  their  patience  ;  good-by,"  and 
just  touching  his  lips  to  her  forehead,  he  rejoined  the  wait- 
ing guard. 

'^He  is  beginning  to  hate  me,"  she  cried  to  herself. 
'*  It  was  for  him  I  did  it,  and  he  hates  me  for  it." 

This  was  part  of  her  punishment.  The  man  she  had 
schemed  and  sinned  for  turned  from  her  with  a  feeling  of 
repulsion.  He  was  not  of  her  moral  caliber.  If  thirst  for 
power,  and  a  fierce  hatred  of  Eadical  rule,  and  a  woman's 
influence,  had  made  him  do  a  wrong,  they  had  not  debased 
him.  His  remorse  for  the  terrible  issue  of  the  excitement 
in  Cohatchie  was  none  the  less  keen,  that  its  working  was 
hid  in  his  own  heart.  It  was  now  pride  and  unrest  that 
urged  him  on  to  accomi^lish  his  purpose.     But  for  these 


WILD   WORK.  331 

lie  would  have  thrown  up  the  game  that  had  cost  him  so 
many  sleepless  nights. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  saw  Alver  a  prisoner,  with  several 
others,  in  the  handsome  Court  House  that  was  Cohatchie's 
pride — a  prisoner,  hut  unshackled,  allowed  the  freedom  of 
the  room,  and  permitted  to  receive  and  converse  with  his 
friends. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

The  work  of  arresting  went  vigorously  on.  Day  and 
night  parties  of  cavalry,  with  negroes  to  pilot  them,  scoured 
the  country,  surrounded  houses  without  warning,  and 
searched  them  from  top  to  bottom.  The  Court  House 
became  like  a  hotel,  so  numerous  were  its  inmates,  while 
many,  to  escape  capture,  had  taken  refuge  in  flight.  Young 
boys  and  gray-haired  men  fled  the  country  in  haste,  or  hid 
in  the  miasmatic  swamps  and  thick  woods,  and  fought 
musquitoes  and  lived  by  fishing  and  hunting,  together  with 
such  food  as  their  friends  could  manage  to  convey  to  them. 
Sometimes  their  hiding-places  would  be  betrayed  by  negroes, 
and  the  ubiquitous  cavalry  would  sweep  down  upon  them 
in  a  hot  chase  across  the  country,  their  superior  knowledge 
of  the  woods  and  their  more  dashing  horsemanship  usually 
enabling  the  pursued  to  escape. 

The  hot  days  were  over  ;  the  Indian  summer  wrapped 
the  land  in  dreamy,  colorful  beauty.  Zoe's  wedding-day 
was  near.  Royal's  sister,  Kate,  was  with  her — an  affec- 
tionate, lively  girl.  Zoe  had  put  aside  the  cloud  that  had 
so  long  hung  between  her  and  her  betrothed.  It  was  a 
mist  of  romance,  she  said  to  herself  ;  the  breath  of  common 
sense  must  blow  it  aside.  She  went  dutifully  about  her 
daily  work ;  she  schooled  herself  into  thinking  cheerfully 
15 


332  ^ILD    WORK. 

of  her  marriage  with  Koyal.  He  was  to  come  on  the  next 
boat,  and  preparations  were  made  for  a  quiet  wedding. 
Quiet  it  must  necessarily  be,  since  society  here  was  wofully 
broken  up,  hardly  a  male  member  being  left  in  any  of  the 
households  in  Cohatchie,  or  for  miles  along  the  river,  above 
and  below  the  town.  The  men  had  been  captured  from 
time  to  time  by  the  troops  and  confined  in  the  strongly 
guarded  walls  of  the  Court  House.  A  few  nights  before, 
an  old  gentleman,  neighbor  to  the  Vincents,  had  had  his 
house  surrounded  at  midnight  by  the  cavalry.  He  had 
managed  to  get  out  and  crawl  into  the  garden,  where  he 
singularly  escaped  discovery.  The  garden  was  tramped 
from  end  to  end,  but  the  old  gentleman,  squatting  close 
among  his  vegetables,  was  overlooked,  or  his  bald  white  poll 
was  taken  for  a  cabbage-head. 

Another  house  in  sight  of  the  Vincent  place  was  sur- 
rounded the  same  night — a  large,  dark,  old  building  which 
a  yellow-fever  scourge  had  left  with  one  solitary  occupant — 
a  young  man.  Leaping  from  the  window  when  he  was 
waked  by  the  clank  of  cavalry  spurs  outside  his  door,  he 
found  himself  encircled  with  bayonets,  and  laughing  reck- 
lessly and  saying,  ''  Why  couldn't  you  let  a  fellow  finish 
his  morning  nap  ?"  he  had  given  himself  up.  Two  nights 
afterward  some  young  men,  who  were  in  hiding,  rode  from 
their  place  of  concealment  through  the  fields,  avoiding  the 
roads  and  negro  quarters,  and  came  to  see  Zoe  and  Miss 
West.  Zoe,  listening  anxiously  at  the  window,  heard  the 
muffled  sound  of  oars  a  few  hours  after  their  arrival,  and 
gave  the  alarm  in  time  for  the  young  visitors  to  make  good 
their  escape.  Fifteen  minutes  afterward  a  cordon  of  Fed- 
eral cavalry  was  drawn  up  around  the  house  in  the  moon- 
light, and  the  building  was  thoroughly  overhauled.  All 
who  had  carried  arms  during  the  riot  were  hunted  down, 
the  negroes  being  the  chief  informants. 


WILD    WORK.  333 

Tom  Ludd  was  expatiating  to  Zoe  on  tlie  '^meddlesome- 
ness of  niggers"  in  this  particular  one  afternoon  as  she 
stood  on  the  bank,  watching  the  puffs  of  smoke  ascending 
from  a  steamer  coming  up  the  river,  but  still  miles  below, 
around  the  bends  of  the  crooked  stream.  She  knew  that 
Eoyal  West  was  on  the  boat — the  man  that  in  two  days  was 
to  be  her  husband,  and  she  tried  to  believe  that  the  flutter 
at  her  heart  was  joy.  Kate  was  busy  crimping  her  fair 
hair,  for  Eoy's  "best  man,"  whom  he  was  to  bring  with 
him,  was  her  favorite  admirer.  Tom  had  been  drawing  in 
Mandy's  *'fish  line,"  with  a  good-sized  "cat"  attached, 
and  now,  with  his  prize  at  his  feet,  stood  where  he  had 
stopped  on  the  bank  near  Zoe.  With  his  eyes  on  the  curls 
of  smoke  staining  the  horizon,  he  pronounced  the  approach- 
ing boat  to  be  *'de  ole  Bartable'  comin'  'round  Blair's 
Bend." 

"  Dere'll  be  more  soljers  on  her,  I  hearn,"  he  said,  not 
quite  able  to  hide  the  pride  he  felt  in  the  fact.  '*De 
calv'ry  cotch  anuther  man  below  here  yisterday.  I  wuz 
down  dat  way  huntin'  my  boss  and  I  seed  'em  take  him, 
and  I  wuz  mity  sorry  to  see  who  it  was.  I'd  a  warned  Mm 
ef  I'd  had  a  chance,  ef  dey  had  tuck  my  vote  away  fur 
doin'  it,  for  he  wuz  dat  Cap'n  what  spared  my  life  de  time 
er  de  foolishness  las'  summer.  'Twas  Oap'n — Cap'n  Hirne. 
You  'member  him.  Miss  Zoe." 

**  Remember  him  ! "  Zoe's  white  face  bore  witness  that 
she  did. 

'"  Hirne  captured  !  How  came  he  here  ?  "  she  controlled 
herself  to  say. 

''I  can't  tell  you  about  dat.  He  was  comin'  from 
Texas,  maybe  ;  was  on  dat  route  when  he  was  tuck.  He 
staid  all  night  somewhere  de  night  before,  and  some 
smart  nigger  reformed  upon  him  to  de  calv'ry.  Dey  said 
he  had  a  big  han'  in  de  'sturbance,  and  de  soljers  was  mity 


334  WILD    WORK. 

glad  to  git  him.  I  got  a  chance  to  speak  a  word  wid  him, 
and  he  axed  straight  about  you,  Miss  Zoe.  *  Is  she  well  ? ' 
he  said,  and  den,  *  Is  she  married  ? '  and  I  tell  him,  *  Not 
yet.  De  weddin'  will  be  performed  next  Thursday  night ; 
de  cake  done  made  and  all.'  He  look  mity  down  in  de 
mouth,  and  no  wonder.  'Tain't  no  fun  to  hear  tell  of  wed- 
din's  and  sich  when  you're  in  a  scrape  like  he  is." 

And  after  hearing  this,  Zoe  had  to  go  and  put  on  smiles 
and  pretty  attire  to  welcome  the  lover  who  came  later.  So 
pale  was  she  that  Kate  insisted  on  touching  her  cheeks 
with  rouge.  The  black  brows  looked  like  arches  of  jet 
on  her  ivory  forehead,  and  the  eyes  beneath  dropped  their 
long  lashes  when  Eoy  tried  to  read  the  meanings  they 
held. 

Winter  Lareau,  Royal's  friend  who  had  come  to  be 
"best  man"  at  the  wedding,  had  his  eyes  seemingly  filled 
by  the  blonde  beauty  of  Kate  West — a  fairy  in  pale  blue, 
with  moonlight-colored  hair  and  a  wild-rose  complexion ; 
so  the  engaged  pair  were  left  to  themselves.  How  hard  Zoe 
struggled  to  hide  all  she  felt,  and  to  seem  interested  in  Roy's 
plans  and  happy  in  his  praises  !  She  succeeded  as  only  a 
woman  with  tact  and  self-control  could  do.  If  Roy  noted 
any  lack  of  her  usual  variety  and  sprightliness,  the  plea  of 
headache  explained  and  excused  it.  But  she  was  glad  to 
take  refuge  in  music,  and  she  sat  down  to  the  cottage  piano 
and  played  fragments  of  favorite- compositions  and  sang 
snatches  of  songs  to  the  delight  of  Royal,  who  liked  music 
that  was  not  too  "  artistic,"  and  loved  the  simple  melody 
of  Zoe's  songs.  After  all,  though,  the  playing  was  not  a 
wise  move.  The  music  brought  its  own  atmosphere  of 
romance  and  tenderness  that  was  dangerous  to  one  who 
had  set  bounds  upon  her  emotions,  and  said,  ''  Thou  shalt 
not  overleap  them."  Half  unconsciously,  she  played  the 
prelude  to  an  air  to  which  she  had  set  Ilirne's  little  song, 


WILD   WORK.  335 

'*"We  met  to  part  for  ever."  Then  giving  herself  up  to  the 
spell  of  the  moment,  she  sang  the  piece  to  the  end.  When 
she  reached  the  last  two  lines  a  voice  caught  up  air  and 
"vvords — a  voice  so  low  it  seemed  an  echo — and  sang  with 
her  : 

"  In  some  fair  Aideon  we  shall  meet 
Who  have  parted  here  for  ever." 

She  turned  around,  pale,  as  if  she  expected  to  see  a  ghost. 

'*  Was  it  you  that  sang  ?  "  she  asked  Koyal. 

"  No  ;  I  never  heard  those  words  before.  It  was  some 
one  outside.  Hugh,  perhaps,"  he  said,  wondering  at  the 
agitation  of  her  looks.  "  You  don't  think  it  was  the 
spirits  ?  " 

"Certainly  not,  unless  you  have  brought  them,"  she 
laughed,  recovering  her  self-possession.  "It  was  likely 
Hugh ;  he  has  heard  me  sing  the  piece  before ;  or  one  of 
the  negroes  ;  they  are  wonderful  at  catching  up  anything 
musical." 

But  she  was  not  candid  in  what  she  said ;  she  walked 
presently  to  the  back  window,  through  which  the  sounds 
had  seemed  to  come,  and  looked  out.  She  saw  no  one,  but 
the  thick  foliage  of  the  cedar-trees  close  by  rustled,  though 
there  was  no  wind.  She  was  about  to  lean  out  and  whisper 
a  name  into  the  dusk,  when  Eoyal,  who  was  turning  over 
music  at  a  stand,  called  to  her  from  the  other  end  of  the 
room. 

"Ah  !  Zoe,  here  is  that  pretty  little  duet,  *  Under  the 
Stars,'  we  used  to  sing  together.  Come,  let  us  sing  it 
now." 

She  answered  quickly : 

"  It  has  been  so  long  since  I  tried  it  I  have  forgotten 
it ;  but  Kate  sings  it,  and  your  voices  blend  well  together. 
I'll  call  her  over  and  ask  her  to  sing  it  with  you." 


336  WILD    WORK, 

Kate  put  down  the  pretty  fancy  work  she  had  been 
trifling  over  and  came  to  the  piano,  at  which  Royal  sat 
down  to  play  the  accompaniment.  Young  Lareau  stood 
by  them  to  turn  the  leaves  of  the  music.  After  the  first 
few  bars  of  the  song,  Zoe  quitted  her  stand  by  the  piano 
and  went  to  the  window  at  the  back  part  of  the  room. 
Dropping  the  curtain  behind  her,  she  leaned  out,  listened, 
and  looked.  Nothing  out  there  but  the  trees,  motionless  in 
the  breezeless  night,  the  chirp  of  insects,  and,  farther  back, 
the  white  cotton-fields  lying  under  the  moonlight.  She 
turned  off  with  a  sigh,  and  was  leaving  the  window,  when 
she  again  heard  a  rustling  outside.  Once  more  she  looked  ; 
she  suppressed  a  cry  that  rose  almost  to  her  lips.  There 
in  the  dim  light,  just  below  the  window,  stood  Hirne. 
Startled,  she  stretched  out  her  hand,  half  believing  it  was 
an  illusion.  He  caught  it  in  his  firm  clasp  and  pressed  it 
to  his  lips.  Drawing  it  hastily  away,  slie  found  voice  to 
say  low  : 

"I  thought  you  were  a  prisoner  ?" 

*^I  was.  I  got  away  from  them.  They  followed  me 
into  the  swamp,  and  I  eluded  them  there.  They  went  back 
without  their  game." 

"Why  did  you  not  go  on  and  put  youself  out  of  the 
reach  of  danger  ?  Wliy  are  you  here,  where  they  may 
come  upon  you  at  any  moment  ?  " 

"I  am  here  to  see  you  ;  I  came  back  to  this  place  to  see 
you.      I  have  no  intention  of  being  balked  of  my  purpose." 

"  But  you  will  go  now  ?  " 

"  Not  until  I  have  had  one  last  interview  with  you." 

'*But  every  moment  is  full  of  danger.  The  negroes 
may  see  you  and  inform  against  you." 

"  I  know  it ;  still  I  must  see  you." 

*^  Come  in  then.  Come  to  the  back  door  through  the 
shrubbery.     The  servants  will  not  be  so  ajit  to  see  you." 


WILD   WORK.  337 

"No,  I  will  not  go  in.  I  know  who  is  there.  Do  3'ou 
think  I  want  to  meet  him  9  Do  you  think  I  could  bear  to 
see  him  look  at  you  as  if  you  were  his  already  ?  No.  In 
a  little  while  he  will  have  you  all  to  himself.  All  I  ask  of 
you  before  that  time  comes  is  a  few  moments  of  your  so- 
ciety— a  little  while  to  look  at  you,  and  listen  to  you,  and 
feel  you  near  me.  Then  I  will  go  away  and  you  shall  never 
hear  of  me  again.  But  I  will  not  go  now  until  you  have 
granted  me  this  much." 

"  How  can  I  ?  It  is  very  dangerous  for  you  to  be  here. 
Parties  of  cavalry  cross  nearly  every  night  and  patrol  the 
river  up  and  down." 

"  I  have  my  horse  fastened  at  the  foot  of  the  lane  there 
in  a  clump  of  bushes,  just  beyond  the  great  pecan-tree. 
Will  you  come  to  that  tree  to-night  ?  There  is  something 
I  must  say  to  you.  Will  you  come  and  tell  me  good-by 
for  ever  ?  " 

She  hesitated. 

"I  shall  wait  there  until  daylight,  unless  you  come." 

His  voice  was  determined.  She  knew  he  would  do  as  he 
said,  and  she  feared  he  would  be  captured  and  that  it  would 
go  hard  with  him,  for  she  believed  that  he  had  been  that 
"long-haired,  keen-eyed  Texan"  who  led  the  mob  of 
lynchers.  Believing  it,  however,  she  still  found  it  hard  to 
resist  his  pleading  for  a  last  interview,  in  which  he  had 
something  to  say  to  her.  It  might  be  important  she  should 
hear  the  something,  she  reasoned,  and  it  was  right  to  try  and 
save  him  from  the  consequences  of  his  own  imprudence  in 
exposing  himself  to  capture  on  her  account.    It  was  her  duty. 

The  last  verse  of  the  song  was  being  sung.  She  must 
speak  before  the  notes  that  had  drowned  their  low  talk 
should  cease. 

"  I  will  come,"  she  said,  and  stepped  out  from  behind 
the  curtain  as  Eoyal  rose  from  the  piano. 


338  WILD   WORK. 

"Koyis  in  splendid  voice,"  cried  Kate.  ''Don't  yon 
think  so,  Zoe  ?  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  almost 
ready  to  cry.  Does  music  affect  you  so  ?  I  thought  you 
more  matter-of-fact." 

"  'I  am  never  merry  when  I  hear  sweet  music.'" 
''Bringing  in  Shakespeare  to  excuse  yourself.     Little 
sentimentalist !    I  suppose  all  people  in  love  are  sentimen- 
tal, though.    Head  grows  soft  to  sympathize  with  heart ;  is 
that  not  so,  Mr.  Lareau  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

She  had  promised  rashly.  She  said  so  to  herself  as  she 
stood  at  the  window  of  her  room  and  looked  obliquely 
across  the  moonlighted  field  to  the  great  pecan-tree  that 
guarded  the  entrance  of  the  lane.  Should  she  go  there  to- 
night to  see  this  man  for  the  last  time — this  man  she  had 
been  trying  so  long  to  put  out  of  her  heart  ? 

And,  after  all,  she  had  promised  to  meet  him  to-night — 
the  night  before  her  marriage.  It  was  very  wrong.  She 
hesitated  to  go  in  spite  of  her  promise.  She  lingered  now, 
when  at  last  she  could  go  unobserved.  She  had  left 
Kate  asleep,  her  head  with  its  golden  plaits  and  crimps  ly- 
ing on  the  laced  pillow,  her  eyes  having  closed  while  she 
was  still  talking  of  Winter  Lareau.  Royal  and  his  friend 
were  taking  their  night-cap  smoke  at  the  window  below. 
The  odor  of  the  cigars  and  the  murmur  of  the  men's  talk 
floated  up  to  her  where  she  sat.  Presently  Royal  threw 
his  half-smoked  cigar  out  among  the  bushes,  hummed  a 
snatch  from  "La  Duchesse,"  and  said  :  "Well,  'get  thee 
to  bed,'  as  my  Lady  Macbeth  has  it." 

"  This  place  is  awfully  lonesome.     I  wonder  how  Zoe 


WILD    WORK.  339 

has  endured  it  so  long.  It  is  not  strange  she  looks  a  little 
sad.  I  shall  take  her  straight  to  Saratoga.  The  waters 
will  do  her  good,  though  the  season  is  nearly  oyer.  She 
needs  brightening  up,  dear  little  girl." 

They  moved  from  the  window,  but  directly  Zoe  heard 
Eoy's  mellow  laugh. 

"  How  happy  he  is  !"  she  thought,  "  while  I — well,  when 
I  am  married  it  will  be  better.  Surely  this  restless  aching 
will  leave  me.  I  .will  forget  this  man  whom  fate  has 
strangely  mixed  up  with  my  life.  It  was  wrong  to  promise 
to  meet  him  to-night.  But  how  could  I  help  it  ?  He  was 
looking  at  me  so  ;  I  was  afraid  he  would  grow  excited  and 
Royal  would  hear  him,  and  there  might  be  a  difficulty  be- 
tween them.  He  is  so  reckless ;  he  will  certainly  expose 
himself  to  capture,  unless  I  see  him  and  persuade  him  to  go 
away.  I  am  afraid  that  he  has  already  been  seen  by  some 
of  the  negroes,  they  are  always  slipping  about,  and  that  the 
troops  will  be  over  to-night  after  him." 

These  thoughts  ran  through  her  mind  as  she  hastily  put 
on  a  dark-brown  dress  and  knotted  a  veil  of  the  same  color 
about  her  head. 

She  looked  at  her  watch  as  she  was  leaving  the  room  ; 
it  was  eleven  o'clock.  Noiselessly  she  quitted  the  house  by 
the  back  door,  opened  the  gate  of  the  rear  yard,  and  hurried 
down  into  the  little  path  that  ran  along  outside  the  paling 
which  divided  the  garden  from  the  cotton-field.  This 
path  led  past  the  stables  to  a  lane  between  two  fields.  She 
stood,  hesitating,  looking  down  the  lane  that  led  to  the 
swamp  —  the  lane  at  whose  foot  was  the  pecan-tree  —  a 
black  blot  on  the  moonlight.  She  dreaded  that  negroes 
might  be  awake,  who  would  see  and  follow  her  and  discover 
Hirne.  It  was  a  time  of  suspicion  and  danger,  and  the 
troops  had  their  dusky  spies  everywhere.  Getting  on  the 
shadow  side  of  the  lane,  she  walked  resolutely  on.     It  was 


340  WILD    WORK. 

not  more  than  four  hundred  yards  to  the  pecan-tree,  but  it 
seemed  a  full  mile  to  the  girl  who  walked  the  distance  with 
rapid  steps,  her  heart  beating  wildly  with  conflicting  feel- 
ings— fear  and  self-reproach,  and  agitation  at  meeting  Hirne 
again.  She  was  too  breathless  to  speak  when  at  last  she 
stopped  within  the  deep  circle  of  shade  cast  by  the  wide, 
down-sweeping  limbs  of  the  pecan-tree.  From  its  great 
trunk  Hirne  stepped  out,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said  : 
*^  You  have  come.  It  was  kind  of  you.  I  thank  you." 
Then,  seeing  her  agitation,  he  said,  hurriedly  : 
**Have  I  asked  too  much  ?  You  are  trembling  like  a 
lamb  under  the  butcher's  knife.  Do  not  be  afraid  to  be 
alone  with  me.  I  would  not  harm  one  hair  of  your  dear 
head.  I  will  not  even  hold  this  little  hand.  I  will  keep 
my  tongue  from  uttering  one  tender  word — if  I  can.  But 
you  must  not  be  too  hard  on  me  if  I  say  a  word  that  it  is 
not  right  to  address  to  another  man's  bride  ;  I  am  not  used 
to  schooling  myself  ;  I  am  but  a  barbarian,  you  know,  and 
you  must  pardon  any  lack  of  etiquette.  God  knows  I  mean 
no  lack  of  respect — of  reverence  even.  You  are  to  me  as  a 
saint — as  the  Virgin  Mother  herself,  looking  down  pitying- 
ly from  her  shrine.  I  could  be  content  to  think  of  you  so, 
to  look  up  to  you  in  my  thoughts  and  never  ask  you  to 
come  down  to  me,  but  I  am  not  content  to  see  another  em- 
brace my  saint.  The  thought  that  you  are  going  to  marry 
fills  me  with  gall  and  bitterness." 

There  was  no  answer  Zoe  could  make  to  this,  and  pres- 
ently he  went  on. 

"Do  you  know,  though,  that  you  gave  me  a  faint  hope 
that  you  might  not  marry  him  after  all — a  faint,  half  hope 
that  you  might  care  for — me  ?  I  know  now  that  it  was 
not  so,  and  it  was  nothing  you  said,  but  that  night  on  the 
porch  you  let  me  say  wild  things,  tender  things,  to  you 
without  rebuke.     You  let  me  hold  your  hand  for  a  sweet 


WILD    WORK.  341 

moment  and  sit  near  you,  and — yes,  your  tones  and  your 
looks  were  kinder  than  you  would  have  used,  my  sweet,  had 
you  known  that  you  were  throwing  out  mocking  straws  to 
a  drowning  man.  It  was  a  bitter  disappointment  when  I 
came  back  and  found  you  gone,  and  not  a  line,  not  a  mes- 
sage for  me." 

''Did  I  think  you  would  have  cared  for  line  or  message 
when  you  had  shown  such  disregard  of  my  entreaties,  my 
prayers  ?  " 

"  Entreaties  ?  prayers  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

*^Did  I  not  implore  you  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
killing  of  those  men  ?  " 

'*  You  did,  and  your  request  was  sacred.  I  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  killing  of  the  officers." 

"  You  had  not  ?  You  were  not  that  Texas  captain  that 
headed  the  lynchers  ?  " 

''  I  was  not.  It  was  another  man,  resembling  me  only 
in  the  long  hair  and  beard,  and  in  the  horse  he  rode. 
He  was  called  Captain  Dick  ;  who  he  really  was  I  can  not 
find  out.  Doubtless  some  fellow,  though,  who,  like  me, 
has  had  wrongs  enough  to  make  him  desperate." 

"And  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  killing  of  the 


men 


V" 


"  I  was  not  on  the  spot.  I  even  did  what  I  could  to 
prevent  bloodshed.  I  had  no  idea  of  taking  a  hand  in  any 
violence  when  I  crossed  the  river  that  night,  because  you 
had  said  what  you  did,  though,  let  me  tell  you,  Nolan  de- 
nied that  what  he  told  you  was  true.  He  said  he  only  told 
it  to  make  himself  important  in  your  eyes." 

*'He  said  that  to  you  ?  Why,  he  made  the  statement 
to  me  as  a  confession  when  he  thought  he  would  die  from 
the  cut  on  his  head." 

''He  said  he  was  delirious  when  he  first  declared  he 
had   been   hired   to  create  a  row,  and  that  afterward  he 


312  WILD   WORK. 

deceived  you  purposely.  I  came  back  to  the  house  that 
night  to  tell  you  this,  and  to  see  if  it  altered  your  views  as 
to  what  should  be  done  to  the  officers,  but  you  had  retired. 
I  did  not  see  you.  I  went  on  to  Cohatchie  to  see  what  they 
were  doing.  On  the  way  I  cross-questioned  the  man  Cobb. 
He  was  drinking  freely,  and  told  more  than  he  would  other- 
wise have  done.  I  thought  from  his  talk  there  might  be  a 
plot  to  overthrow  the  Radicals,  and  that,  if  there  was  any 
dark  work  in  it,  he  was  the  agent,  if  not  the  planner.  When 
the  officers  were  sent  away  under  guard,  I  determined  to 
follow,  and,  if  possible,  prevent  violence.  I  told  my  inten- 
tion to  several  of  my  friends,  and  they  said  they  were  with 
me,  and  we  started  together.  A  mile  or  so  out  of  town  we 
came  up  with  a  party  who  seemed  to  come  together  by  some 
preconcerted  plan.  Men  rode  up  and  joined  them  from 
time  to  time,  and  no  questions  were  asked.  They  were, 
most  of  them,  men  I  did  not  know.  Cobb  was  among 
them.  He  shunned  me,  and  tried  to  muffle  up  his  face. 
He  had  found  out  from  my  talk  that  I  did  not  favor  lynch- 
ing the  men.  "We  rode  on,  until  my  horse,  that  had  got  a 
shoe  loose  and  was  going  fast  down  a  hill,  fell  and  hurt 
liimself  and  me.  I  was  compelled  to  stop  by  the  way,  but 
two  of  my  friends  went  on,  and  I  charged  them  to  keep  our 
boys  from  having  any  hand  in  the  killing  that  I  was  afraid 
was  going  to  be." 

Zoe  was  silent.  '*  Oh  !  if  I  had  only  known  this  before ! " 
she  was  thinking.     Presently  she  said  : 

"  We  heard  that  a  man,  who  had  been  prevented  from 
going  on  by  a  fall,  sent  a  message  to  the  lynchers,  offering  a 
thousand  dollars  for  every  man  who  should  be  spared.  Was 
it  you  who  made  that  offer  ?  " 

**  It  was,  and  I  meant  it,  and  was  sorry  it  came  too  late. 
I  offered  the  reward  for  your  sake,  because  you  had  begged 
to  have  these  men  spared." 


WILD    WORK.  343 

"  I  thank  you.  Oh  !  I  might  have  known  you  would 
never  have  had  a  hand  in  so  bloody  a  deed." 

"Yes,  I  might.  I  can't  take  praise  that  is  not  mine. 
There  were  men  among  those  lynchers  as  good  as  I  am — 
better,  perhaps.  I  never  did  kill  a  defenseless  man,  but  I 
might  have  felt  as  they  had  I  lived  in  this  parish  and 
been  saddled  so  long  by  extortioners,  and  had  at  last  been 
led  to  believe  I  was  about  to  be  victimized  by  them  and 
their  negro  tools." 

**You  can  not  tell  me  that  you  would  have  killed 
them?" 

**  Well,  no ;  I  could  not  have  taken  the  life  of  an  un- 
armed man.  As  for  one  begging  me  to  spare  him,  kneel- 
ing, praying —  But  I  don't  like  to  remember  that  day — and 
it  was  not  to  listen  to  such  gloomy  talk  I  asked  you  to  come 
here  to-night.  But  I  seem  always  doomed  to  say  and  do 
things  to  make  you  think  me  a  blood-thirsty  monster,  while 
this  moment,  and  for  months — ever  since  I  knew  you — the 
better  spirit  within  me  has  been  longing  for  peace  ;  I  told 
you  so  once,  and  I  told  you  that  only  your  love  could  save 
me.  That  was  a  piece  of  mad  presumption ;  but  I  am  bet- 
ter for  having  known  you,  and  I  want  to  promise  you,  my 
good  angel,  this  night,  that  I  will  renounce  the  wild  life 
you  found  fault  with.  I  will  settle  down  in  a  quiet  home 
I  have,  with  the  two  boys  I  told  you  I  was  educating,  and 
another  orphan — the  little  daughter  of  the  brother  officer's 
widow  I  also  spoke  to  you  of.  The  mother  died  last  month, 
and  the  little  girl,  ten  years  old,  is  my  ward.  I  shall  try 
to  make  a  home  for  these  three,  and  to  make  them  happy. 
Does  this  please  you  ?  " 

Emotion  made  Zoe's  voice  husky. 

"  It  does,"  she  said.  "  It  pleases  me  best  of  all  because 
in  trying  to  make  those  orphans  happy  you  will  become 
happy  yourself.    Here  is  my  hand  ;  you  have  given  me  your 


344  WILD    WORK. 

promise,  and  I  pledge  you  my  sympathy,  my  best  wishes, 
my  prayers  for  your  happiness. " 

"Happiness!"  he  echoed,  bitterly.  *^I  hope  for  no 
happiness."  Then,  recovering  himself,  he  thanked  her 
gently. 

"And  you,"  he  said,  "no  need  to  wish  you  happiness. 
The  good  and  beautiful  can  not  but  be  happy.  •Yet  griefs 
may  come.  I  wish  I  could  bear  all  yours  for  you.  He  is 
blest  who  has  the  privilege  of  sharing  them.  If  Fate  had 
given  me  that  privilege — do  not  draw  your  hand  away, 
sweetest.  I  only  hold  it  because  we  are  parting — saying 
good-by  for  ever.  I  have  seen  you,  you  have  spoken  kindly 
to  me,  and  now  it  is  time — " 

"Hush!"  cried  Zoe,  starting.  "Do  you  hear  that 
noise?" 

"Where?  what  noise?" 

"The  tramp  of  horses,  and  a  man's  voice  calling.  It 
came  from  the  river.  Oh  !  what  if  the  cavalry  have  crossed 
and  are  searching  for  you  ?  " 

They  listened  in  breathless  silence  for  a  moment,  strain- 
ing their  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  river. 

"Don't  be  frightened  for  me,"  he  said  low.  "I  have 
my  horse  here  ready  to  spring  upon  him  at  an  instant's 
warning,  and  there  is  the  swamp  behind  us.  They  would 
not  have  caught  me  yesterday  had  I  been  upon  my  good 
Mort.    I  had  dismounted  to  drink,  and  they  surprised  me." 

"  How  was  it  that  you  got  away  ?  " 

"  The  soldiers  were  in  a  cane  patch  stealing  sugar-cane — 
all  but  one,  who  was  guarding  me.  "When  he  was  not  look- 
ing I  gave  him  the  slip  and  was  off  in  a  flash.  He  shouted 
to  his  comrades ;  but  before  they  came  and  mounted  I  was 
in  the  woods.  There  Mort  and  I  were  at  home.  They 
will  not  penetrate  far  in  the  swamp,  being  afraid  of  an  am- 
bush." 


WILD   WORK  345 

"  If  they  should  arrest  you,  you  could  prove  that  you 
had  no  part  in  the  murders  ?   You  would  he  in  no  danger  ?  " 

''Not  if  the  trial  was  conducted  with  any  fairness — 
unless  something  else  came  up,  my  old  Alabama  scrape,  for 
instance.  They  might  find  I  never  paid  that  debt.  I  took 
French  leave  of  the  Dry  Tortugas,  remember.  A  trial 
would  unearth  all  those  old  offences  against  this  delectable 
Government." 

''  It  would  ;  I  never  thought  of  that.  Oh  !  how  impru- 
dent it  was  for  you  to  come  here,  knowing  the  troops  were 
scouring  the  country  ! " 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  once  more." 

^J  Then  go — go,  my  friend.  Promise  to  leave  here  this 
very  night.     Eeturn  to  Texas.     Promise  me." 

*'I  will.  Do  not  agitate  yourself  on  my  account.  If 
they  turned  that  lane  this  moment  I  could  escape — but 
you  I"  he  broke  off,  struck  by  a  sudden  and  startling 
thought.  "  You  are  here  !  If  they  come  they  must  not 
find  you  here  alone.  And  to  find  you  with  me  !  Oh  !  it 
is  you  who  run  the  worst  risk  to-night.  And  I  have  ex- 
posed you  to  it !  I  thought  only  of  seeing  you  again.  I 
did  not  think  once  of  the  danger  to  you.  I  was  selfishly 
thoughtless.  Forgive  me,  and  go  at  once.  Good-by,  my 
dearest ;  my  good  angel ;  God  bless  you  ! " 

He  dropped  the  hand  he  had  pressed  in  his,  and  she 
turned  to  leave  him. 

Suddenly,  before  she  could  get  beyond  the  circle  of  deep 
shadow,  he  caught  her  and  drew  her  back. 

"Look!"  he  whispered,  hoarsely.  ''The  cavalry! 
They  are  coming  ! " 

There  in  the  moonlight,  at  the  head  of  the  lane,  she 
saw  a  party  of  horsemen  riding  down  upon  them.  She  ut- 
tered a  faint  cry  of  dismay  ;  then  she  said,  firmly  : 

"  Lose  no  time  ;  mount  your  horse  ;  go  !  go  I " 


346  WILD   WORK. 

"  And  leave  you  ?    Never  ! " 

"  They  will  not  arrest  we." 

"  You  will  be  exposed  to  their  insults,  their  coarse  jests, 
their  rough  questions  and  comments.  Curses  on  my  self- 
ishness for  having  brought  this  upon  you  ! " 

**  Think  of  yourself.  Never  mind  me.  I  am  not  afraid 
to  face  them  ;  or  I  can  hide." 

*^  You  can  not.     They  will  search  everywhere." 

Indeed,  there  was  little  place  for  concealment.  The 
strip  of  land  had  once  been  partially  cleared.  The  large 
trees  were  gone.  There  were  clumps  of  bushes  here  and 
there.  The  fence  of  either  field  was  very  high,  and  with- 
in, the  corn,  stripped  of  its  leaf-blades,  afforded  little.con- 
cealment.  Then  the  moon  was  shining  brilliantly,  and 
the  fence  and  fields  were  in  full  view  of  the  approaching 
soldiers.  A  noise  to  the  right  turned  Hirne's  eye  in  that 
direction.  There,  just  coming  into  sight  around  a  curve 
in  the  rear  fence,  was  another  party  of  soldiers,  and  it  was 
probable  that  yet  another  detachment  was  approaching 
around  the  lower  field.  They  had  divided  to  make  more 
sure  of  finding  their  prey.  Hirne  turned  quickly  to  the 
trembling  girl. 

'*  There  is  but  one  way,"  he  said,  in  a  firm  whisper. 
"  I  can  not  leave  you  here  alone  ;  they  must  not  find  you 
here  with  me ;  they  will  not  follow  us  far  in  the  swamp. 
Come." 

His  horse — a  fine  black,  that  had  answered  his  whistle 
a  moment  ago  with  a  low  neigh — stood  waiting  for  him,  his 
ears  quivering  with  eagerness.  As  Hirne  spoke  he  lifted 
Zoe  to  a  seat  upon  the  powerful  animal.  He  sprang  into 
the  saddle  before  her,  and  at  a  word  and  a  touch  of  the 
spur  the  horse  bounded  off.  It  was  but  a  few  leaps  to  the 
deep  shadow  of  the  swamp,  but  the  horsemen  on  the  right 
saw  him,  and  with  a  loud  shout  they  gave  chase.     He  felt 


WILD    WOEK. 


347 


a  tremor  run  through  the  arm  of  the  girl  who  clung  to 
him  ;  he  dreaded  that  she  would  swoon. 

''  Don't  be  frightened/'  he  said,  as  they  iSew  on.  ''  They 
will  soon  quit  the  pursuit ;  they  are  afraid  of  an  ambush. 
Bend  your  head,  that  the  limbs  may  not  strike  you." 

On  they  rushed  through  the  silent  woods.  There  was 
no  underbrush,  only  the  great  trees  and  their  clasping 
vines.  The  horse,  well  used  to  the  woods,  avoided  these 
without  slackening  the  long,  sweeping  gallop  which  kept 
the  pursuers  out  of  sight.^  They  came  to  a  low,  marshy 
place— the  bed  of  a  dried-iip  bayou,  now  a  mass  of  mud, 
mantled  with  deceptive  green  mold. 

"Here's  something  that  will  stop  them  if  I  don't  mis- 
take," cried  Hirne.  '^This  will  bog  a  bird— I  found  out 
to-day — everywhere  but  at  one  spot." 

He  turned  his  horse  suddenly  to  the  right,  rode  down 
the  boggy  ravine  a  few  rods,  and  then  crossed  it  on  a  kind 
of  causeway  formed  of  *^ chunks"  and  logs,  but  so  hid- 
den by  water-grass  that  it  was  not  easily  perceived  even  in 
the  light  of  day.  He  kept  on  in  his  changed  direction, 
the  horse  holding  a  steady  course,  as  though  he  had  a 
certain  goal  in  view.  Presently  they  heard  cries  behind 
them.  Hirne  checked  his  horse  and  listened.  Loud  ex- 
clamations, oaths,  expressive  of  anger  and  disgust,  came 
to  their  ears. 

"  They  are  floundering  in  a  bog  equal  to  that  of  Kil- 
larney,"  Hirne  said,  with  his  low  laugh. 

"  They  won't  pass  that  Eubicon  to-night,  but  we  will 
ride  on  farther  to  make  sure.  I  know  of  a  hiding-place 
they'll  not  be  apt  to  find." 

On  they  went.  An  opening  in  the  WQods  appeared  before 
them :  a  waste  field,  its  fence  nearly  gone,  a  deserted  log- 
cabin,  half  hid  by  weeds,  standing  lonely  and  black-looking 
upon  the  bank  of  the  bayou  which  formed  the  farther  boun- 


3^8  ^-^^^    WORK. 

dary  of  the  field.  Riding  across  the  field,  Hirne  drew  rein 
on  the  steep  bank  of  bayou  Vincey. 

"  They  would  never  venture  to  cross  this  fierce  cur- 
rent," he  said.  ''  I  should  not  like  to  swim  it  myself  ;  but 
if  they  come  here  they  will  think  I  have  crossed,  for,  see, 
here  underneath  the  bank,  where  these  two  great  trees  have 
fallen  into  the  bayou  and  their  torn-up  roots  are  overrun 
by  a  mass  of  wild  vines,  there  is  a  natural  hiding-place— a 
kind  of  cave  hollowed  out  in  the  bank  by  the  current  at 
high  water  and  roofed  over  by  the  tree-roots,  the  matted 
yines,  and  the  earth  together.  A  man  and  a  horse  can  ride 
in  under  those  hanging  vines  and  be  securely  hid.  I  will 
ride  a  little  way  down  the  bank  so  that  the  horse  can  not 
be  seen  by  any  one  coming,  and  we  will  wait  and  listen. 
If  they  come,  we  will  conceal  ourselves  under  the  ledge ; 
but  I  imagine  they  will  have  enough  to  do  to  get  out  of 
the  bog,  and  will  be  glad  to  go  back  empty-handed." 

Moments  passed  while  they  waited  anxiously,  but  no 
sound  broke  the  silence  save  the  ripple  of  the  bayou  and 
the  swish  of  the  willows  that  dipped  in  the  stream. 

Hirne  turned  his  horse  and  rode  up  the  bank  again, 
saying  : 

**  I  am  sure  they  have  given  up  the  chase  and  gone  back, 
but  I  think  it  is  safer  to  wait  awhile  before  we  return,  and 
give  them  time  to  cross  the  river." 

He  rode  up  to  the  deserted  cabin.  It  was  overgrown 
with  gourd-vines  and  wild  morning-glories  ;  a  single  old 
ash-tree  stood  guard  over  it ;  in  the  yard  stray  marigolds 
and  bunches  of  catnip  struggled  with  weeds  and  bushes. 

"I  staid  here  last  night,"  said  Hirne.  ''The  owls 
hooted  me  to  sleep.  As  I  broiled  my  dried-beef  supper  on 
the  moldy  hearth  the  lizards  woke  and  peeped  at  me  cu- 
riously from  the  cracks,  and  the  bats  whizzed  around  me 
like  insulted  witches." 


WILD    WORK.  319 

Zoe  knew  the  place  well.  She  had  gathered  dewberries 
in  the  waste  field  last  spring.  It  was  a  place  cleared  and 
cultivated,  but  desei-ted  when  the  overflow  of  back-lands  of 
a  year  or  two  ago  had  driven  the  settlers  in  the  swamps 
from  their  inundated  homes. 

Hirne  had  spoken  gayly  to  reassure  Zoe  ;  it  had  pained 
him  so  to  hear  the  loud  beating  of  her  heart,  and  to  feel 
how  she  trembled. 

^'  Will  you  let  me  help  you  down,  and  rest  here  a  mo- 
ment on  the  porch  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  faintly  assented,  and  he  lifted  her  gently  to  the 
floor  and  seated  her  upon  a  bench  that  was  on  the  porch. 
At  the  same  instant  a  harsh  cry  made  her  start  with  a 
scream.  A  great  owl  flew  out  of  the  big  ash-tree  and  sailed 
across  the  bayou.  The  fright,  slight  compared  to  what  she 
had  passed  through,  was  the  final  experience  needed  to  over- 
throw her  tottering  self-control.  She  had  borne  up  well ; 
now  she  gave  way.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  sobbed. 

Hirne  threw  himself  at  her  feet. 

''  For  Grod's  sake,  don't  distress  yourself.  Miss  Zoe  !  All 
will  be  well.  No  harm  shall  come  to  you.  It  can  not  be 
an  hour  past  midnight.  In  an  hour  more  you  shall  be  safe 
in  your  own  room.  I  wish  to  heaven  you  had  not  left  it ! 
It  was  selfish,  cruel  in  me  to  put  this  trial  upon  you.  I  see 
it  now.  I  did  not  then.  I  fought  with  the  mad  craving 
to  see  you  and  have  you  near  me  for  the  last  time.  My 
dearest,  do  not  fret  yourseK  so.  You  will  be  ill.  Forgive 
me,  say  you  forgive  me." 

The  sight  of  his  distress  quieted  her. 

''  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said.  "  We  could  not 
foresee  that  the  soldiers  would  come." 

*^  And  you  will  not  hate  me  for  this  ?  " 

"I  could  never  hate  you,"  she  said;  then,  looking  up 


350  WILD    WORK. 

and  smiling,  though  her  wet  cheeks  and  lashes  glistened  in 
the  moon-rays,  **  never,  unless  you  do  some  wicked,  revenge- 
ful thing,  and  that  you  have  promised  never  to  do." 

**  Never.  That  is  a  little  thing  to  do  for  you.  Only  to 
restrain  my  own  wild  will  that  never  was  curbed  enough. 
Do  you  know  I  have  never  thrown  a  card  or  tasted  liquor 
since  that  night  I  won  Vincent's  money,  not  knowing  he 
was  your  brother — that  night  when  I  bore  you  from  the 
burning  boat,  and  held  your  chilled  form  in  my  arms.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  day.  It  was  the  turning-point  in 
my  life.  I  have  been  a  different  being  since  then.  My  old 
pursuits  give  me  no  pleasure.  To  rove  here  and  there  seek- 
ing chances  to  revenge  my  wrongs  has  lost  the  feverish 
charm  it  had.  Instead,  I  have  a  thirst  to  be  loved.  Oh  ! 
what  a  thirst !  like  a  fire  consuming  my  heart ;  and  it  will 
never  be  satisfied." 

"It  will.  You  will  love  some  good  woman,  and  be 
loved  by  her." 

"No.  I  shall  never  love  any  woman  but  you ;  never, 
my  dearest,  I  must  try  to  make  that  little  child  love  me 
as  a  father,  and  be  satisfied.  I  am  glad  her  eyes  are  dark 
like  yours.  She  says  her  prayers  at  night.  I  will  ask  her 
to  pray  for  you,  my  guardian  angel,  if  only  that  I  may  hear 
your  name." 

Zoe  made  no  answer.  They  sat  near  each  other ;  the 
moonlight  was  on  her  face,  and  one  hand,  lily  white, 
drooped  at  her  side.  It  tempted  him,  but  he  did  not  touch 
it.  The  Indian  summer  night  was  about  them,  with  its 
faint  fragrance  and  mystical  beauty.  The  moon  rode  high  ; 
the  shadows  hardly  stirred  ;  the  cypress-trees  stood  tall  and 
solemn  upon  the  banks  between  which  the  bayou  flowed 
and  eddied  with  low  gurgling.  That  sound  and  the  chirp 
of  the  night  insects  in  the  dewy  grass  kept  the  silence  here 
in  the  swamp  from  being  oppressive. 


WILD   WORK.  351 

In  spite  of  her  anxiety  and  self-reproach,  the  situation 
held  a  spell  for  Zoe.  To  sit  here  in  the  depth  of  the  au- 
tumn wood,  with  the  man  she  loved  and  who  loved  her  so 
well,  had  a  charm  of  wild  sweetness  like  that  of  a  flower 
gathered  from  the  brink  of  a  precipice.  She  had  no  fear 
in  being  alone  with  Hirne.  Impetuous,  passionate  as  he 
was,  she  knew  she  could  trust  perfectly  in  his  honor,  in  his 
love,  that,  with  all  its  unconventional  fervor,  was  of  that 
fine,  poetic  quality  that  would  not  sully  its  object  even  in 
thought.  He  would  have  died  rather  than  startle  the  mod- 
esty of  the  woman  he  loved.  This  moment  was  sweet  to 
him,  but  he  put  aside  the  temptation  to  prolong  its  sweet- 
ness. 

*^  I  think  we  will  be  safe  now  in  going  back,"  he  said. 

He  would  put  her  in  the  saddle  and  walk  beside  her. 
'^I  like  it  better,"  he  said.  "  I  am  tired  of  riding.  I  am 
a  capital  walker.  Few  horses  can  beat  me."  Which  was 
no  vain  boast. 

Cautiously,  and  with  little  noise,  they  retraced  their  way 
through  the  silent  woods.  Hirne,  in  low  tones,  talked  cheer- 
fully to  keep  up  Zoe's  spirits.  Walking  at  her  side,  his  tall 
figure,  his  careless  hair,  his  free  step,  giving  him  a  Robin 
Hood  look ;  watchful  of  her  comfort,  careful  the  boughs 
should  not  incommode  her,  making  merry  over  small  mis- 
haps and  saying  picturesque  things  in  his  quaint  way,  half 
jocular,  half  earnest,  he  made  the  way  seem  so  short  that 
she  looked  around  amazed  when  they  came  out  into  the 
open  strip  of  woods  and  saw  the  pecan-tree  and  the  fields 
beyond,  and  the  house  in  its  tree  shadows,  all  lying  quiet 
and  silent  in  the  moonlight. 

*'No  sight  or  sound  of  the  troops,"  Hirne  said.  '^  Will 
you  not  ride  to  the  end  of  the  lane  before  dismounting  ? 
Mort  will  come  back  to  me." 

But  this  she  would  not  do.     It  miojht  draw  notice  to 


352  WILD   WORK. 

him.  She  preferred  to  walk  from  the  pecan-tree.  So  un- 
der the  shadow  he  helped  her  from  the  horse.  Her  hands 
were  cold,  for  the  latter  hours  of  the  October  night  were 
touched  with  chill,  and  the  malarial  night  air,  the  anxiety 
and  fatigue,  sent  premonitory  shivers  through  her  frame. 
Her  quick-sighted  lover  noted  it  as  he  helped  her  to  alight. 

**  Your  hands  are  almost  as  cold  as  they  were  that  night 
I  held  them  to  my  breast  to  warm  them,"  he  said.  "If 
you  should  be  ill  from  this  night's  experience  I  will  never 
forgive  myself.  I  shall  for  ever  think  with  self -rebuke  of 
the  trial  I  have  brought  on  you  to-night.  Your  tender 
heart  made  you  listen  to  my  selfish  prayer.  Then,  I  was 
mean  enough  to  play  upon  your  fears  for  me." 

"  You  must  not  talk  so.  I  do  not  regret  having  seen 
you.  My  only  regret  is  the  danger  you  exposed  yourself 
to." 

"That  is  nothing — nothing  to  having  made  you  pale 
and  unhappy,  and  on  the  night  before  your  wedding.  I 
have  come  like  a  death's  head  at  your  feast  of  joy  to  make 
your  sweet  cheeks  shed  their  roses.  Don't  think  too  hard 
of  me.  I  did  not  mean  it.  I  meant  to  have  looked  at  you 
unseen  and  gone  away,  but  when  I  saw  Mm  sitting  by  you, 
so  proud  and  happy,  and  you  smiling  in  his  face,  I  thought 
bitterly  :  *  She  might  spare  me  one  hour,  to  have  her  near 
me,  to  look  at  and  listen  to  her  for  the  last  time — one  hour 
from  that  man  who  is  going  to  have  her  all  her  sweet  life.' 
It  seemed  a  small  thing  then  for  you.  I  feel  now  that  it 
was  a  sacrifice  I  ought  never  to  have  asked." 

"  I  do  not  feel  it  so  since  I  have  received  your  promise 
to  quit  a  life  of  roving  and  violence  and  live  in  peace. 
And  you  have  promised,  too,  to  leave  here,  and  not  to  come 
back  till  the  troops  have  left  Cohatchie.     Have  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  ;  I  will  not  try  to  see  you  again  until — 
I  have  become  resigned  to  thinking  of  3^ou  as  another  man's 


WILD    WORK  353 

wife.  Now  I  am  not  resigned.  Don't  shed  a  tear  over  me, 
my  sweetest ;  I  will  get  the  better  of  this  madness,  and  some 
day  I  will  bring  my  little  ward  to  see  the  fair  woman  she 
has  heard  me  call  my  good  angel.     Good-by.'' 

He  pressed  her  hands  between  his  own,  repressing  the 
passion  whose  thrill  she  could  feel  in  that  lingering  clasp. 
A  tear  fell  from  his  eyes  upon  her  hand.  She,  too,  was 
weeping  as  she  tui-ned  away. 

He  leaned  his  arm  on  his  faithful  horse  and  watched 
her  until  her  dark-robed  form  was  lost  in  the  silvery  dusk 
of  the  night.  Then,  sighing  heavily,  he  mounted  and  rode 
back  into  the  woods.  He  was  full  of  regret  for  the  danger 
he  had  exposed  her  to,  the  pain  of  sympathy  he  had  cost 
her.  He  did  not  dream  the  full  extent  of  her  trial  to- 
night ;  he  did  not  dream  that  she  loved  him.  Pity  for 
him,  the  sympathy  of  a  w^omanly  heart — this  was  all  he 
thought  she  felt  for  him.  He  could  not  know  that  she, 
too,  had  struggled  to  preserve  her  self-control — that  duty 
and  honor  had  fought  with  the  wild  longing  to  speak  words 
that  would  have  made  him  happy;  to  say,  *^I  love  you. 
You  are  more  to  me  than  the  man  I  was  going  to  marry. 
I  will  fly  with  you  to  the  wilds  of  Texas — anywhere  to  be 
with  you." 

She  thanked  God  that  strength  had  been  given  her  to 
keep  back  this  revelation ;  yet  how  happy  it  would  have 
made  him  !  She  let  herself  fancy  for  a  moment  what  a 
light  would  have  leaped  into  those  deep-set,  wistful  eyes. 

She  felt  he  had  spoken  truly.  Her  love  could  help  him 
to  be  a  good  and  useful  man.  Those  strong  energies,  that 
ill-fortune  had  swerved  from  the  right,  she.  could  help 
turn  into  worthy  channels.  Her  love  would  be  rest  to 
him,  and  for  herself,  she  felt  that  one  year  with  Hirne  in 
the  Texas  wilderness  would  be  richer  in  happiness  than 
an  existence  spent  in  the  gay  city  with  Royal  West. 


354:  WILD    WORK. 

Yet  she  owed  allegiance  to  Eoyal  West.  She  must 
marry  him.  He  had  waited  so  long,  so  faithfully,  for  the 
fulfillment  of  her  promise.  He  was  here  to  marry  her 
on  the  morrow.  There  was  no  honorable  escape.  To 
play  him  false  at  this  late  hour  would  be  basest  cruelty. 
No,  she  must  marry  him  ;  she  must  put  out  of  her  mind 
for  ever  the  image  of  the  man  she  had  just  parted  with. 

With  these  thoughts  coursing  through  her  brain  she 
sat  for  an  hour  after  she  had  softly  entered  her  room.  Day 
was  streaking  the  east  when  she  at  last  undressed  and  lay 
down  upon  her  bed.  She  drew  the  coverlet  about  her. 
She  was  hot  and  shivering  by  tui'ns ;  wild  thrills  ran 
through  her  brain  and  body — symptoms  premonitory  of 
fever.  That  hour  of  miserable  watching  had  completed 
the  work  half  done  by  the  anxiety  and  terror  of  the  night 
and  the  malaiial  breath  of  the  beautiful  but  baleful  swamp. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Zoe's  marriage  day  opened  fair.  A  blue  mist  clung  to 
the  distant  landscape,  and  a  soft  haze  diffused  itself  through 
the  atmosphere  and  chastened  the  splendors  of  the  sun. 
The  household  at  the  Vincent  cottage  were  early  astir. 
Little  Mrs.  Hugh  was  in  her  pantry  inspecting  the  bride's 
cake,  about  whose  frosting  she  had  been  doubtful.  Kate, 
fresh  as  a  lily  in  her  pretty  blue  morning  dress,  was  up  not 
long  after  sunrise  and  tapped  at  Zoe's  door,  calling  out : 

'^Wake,  laggard!" 

There  was  no  answer,  and  the  girl  thought  she  heard  a 
moan  within.  She  opened  the  door  in  haste.  There  lay 
the  bride-elect,  her  cheeks  and  lips  carmine,  her  eyes  glassy 


WILD   WORK.  355 

bright,  turning  with  the  vacant  stare  of  unconsciousness 
upon  her  frightened  friend. 

A  physician  was  sent  for  in  haste  ;  he  pronounced  her 
illness  to  be  malarial  fever.  For  days  she  was  unconscious, 
part  of  the  time  lying  in  a  stupor,  but  often  delirious. 
None  guessed  the  immediate  cause  of  her  illness.  Fortu- 
nately, her  going  and  coming  the  night  before  had  not  been 
seen.  "When  the  soldiers  surrounded  and  searched  the 
house  to  find  the  escaped  prisoner,  they  had  been  informed 
was  lurking  about  the  premises,  they  had  been  less  thor- 
ough in  ransacking  than  usual,  owing  to  the  presence  of 
Roy  and  Lareau,  whom  the  ofiicer  in  command  had  known 
in  New  Orleans.  The  rooms  of  the  young  ladies  were  not 
molested,  and  Zoe's  absence  was  not  discovered.  Imme- 
diately after  searching  the  house  and  grounds  they  had 
ridden  down  the  lane,  having  been  told  by  a  negro  that,  at 
dusk,  he  had  seen  a  big  black  horse  fastened  under  the 
pecan  by  a  Texas  hair  lariat.  The  glimpse  the  soldiers  had 
of  the  flying  form  of  Hirne  and  his  horse  before  the  friendly 
shadows  of  the  swamp  received  them  was  not  suflScient  to 
show  them  the  female  form  beside  him.  So  Zoe's  night 
adventure  was  known  to  none  but  herself  and  Hirne.  Her 
wild  talk  about  being  pursued  through  the  woods,  leaping 
fallen  logs  and  ravines  on  horseback,  riding  down  bayous 
to  dark  liiding-places,  and  her  piteous  appeals  of  ^'  Do  not 
leave  me,  take  me  with  you,"  were  regarded  as  incoherent 
ravings.  And  when,  holding  fast  to  Roy's  hand  and  look- 
ing into  his  face,  she  said  :  *^I  love  you ;  I  can't  bear  for 
you  to  leave  me  for  ever ;  I  will  go  with  you  anywhere," 
he  answered,  tenderly,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  *'  My  darling, 
I  will  not  leave  you,"  and  turning  to  Hugh,  said,  '*  You  see 
she  is  not  altogether  out  of  her  mind  ;  she  knows  me,  and 
begs  me  not  to  leave  her." 

He  and  Kate  were  her  faithful  nurses,  and  when  the 
16 


356  WILD   WORE. 

crisis  was  past  she  opened  her  conscious  eyes  upon  their 
relieved  and  smiling  faces.  But  she  gathered  strength 
slowly,  and  before  she  was  well  enough  to  walk  about  the 
room  Roy  was  obliged  to  return  to  the  city.  A  letter  from 
his  partner  reminded  him  that  a  highly  important  case 
demanded  his  attention.  His  absence  would  cause  him  to 
sulfer  in  his  professional  reputation  as  well  as  his  purse. 
Zoe  urged  him  to  go  at  once.  She  was  out  of  danger,  and 
improving  daily.  It  was  at  last  decided  that  he  should  go. 
He  had  pressed  her  to  let  the  marriage  take  place  before  he 
went.  The  day  fixed  for  his  departure  he  came  in  to  see 
her,  and  found  her  sitting  up  for  the  first  time.  Her  deli- 
cately featured  face,  with  its  dark  penciled  brows  and  ex- 
quisite outlines  of  chin  and  cheek,  showed  white  as  carven 
ivory  in  the  setting  of  violet-purple  dressing  gown.  Kate's 
deft  hands  had  braided  her  hair  into  two  loose,  girlish 
plaits  that  hung  down  her  shoulders. 

*'You  look  so  sweet  this  morning! "Roy  said  as  he 
lifted  one  of  the  little  hands  to  his  lips.  "Are  you  sure 
you  will  not  retract  your  decision  of  yesterday  ?  Zoe,  don't 
you  think  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  be  married  before  I 
go  away  ?  I  would  not  feel  so  bad  at  leaving  you  then. 
Let  the  ceremony  take  place  here,  with  only  Kate  and 
Hugh  and  his  wife  present,  and  you  in  that  pretty  jDurple 
gown  in  which  you  look  like  a  pansy,  my  love  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  trying  to  laugh,  as  she  said  :  "  You 
know  it  is  bad  luck  to  marry  a  bride  on  her  sick-bed,  Roy. " 

"  Bother  such  old  woman's  signs  !  Though  I  am  grow- 
ing almost  superstitious  about  this  marriage.  It  has  been 
delayed  so  often  by  untoward  circumstances,  and,  forgive 
me,  by  your  caprice,  my  own,  until  it  seems  it  is  fated 
never  to  be.  Do  you  intend  making  me  a  second  Jacob, 
my  dark-eyed  Rachel  ?  " 

**Not  so  bad  as  that,  Roy ;  listen  to  me.     Let  me  get 


WILD    WORK.  357 

well  and  look  a  little  more  like  a  bride  ;  tlien  when  Hugh 
goes  down  with  his  cotton  I  will  go  with  him,  and — " 

"  And  we  will  be  married  at  once,  quietly  at  church, 
and  will  go  on  to  Cuba  to  receive  your  father's  blessing, 
then  from  there  to  New  York,  Niagara,  and  the  Lakes — the 
stereotyped  bridal  tour — and  back  to  New  Orleans  in  time  to 
eat  mother's  Christmas  turkey  at  our  unfailing  family  re- 
union. Well;  that  programme  will  do,  my  darling,  second 
best  to  the  one  I  first  proposed — that  of  marrying  right 
now,  which  I  still  think  best,  for  I  remember  that  *  there's 
often  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip,'  and  my  cup  has  so 
often  been  put  aside  that  I  am  naturally  impatient." 

Zoe  did  not  encourage  him  to  dwell  upon  this  view  of 
the  matter.     She  said,  as  cheerily  as  she  could  : 

"Perhaps  we  will  have  Kate's  company  in  the  trip  you 
have  mapped  out.  Mr.  Lareau  wants  their  marriage  to 
take  place  in  a  month  or  two. " 

*'  So  they  are  really  going  to  marry ;  and  that  little  co- 
quette has  got  captured  at  last !  I  was  glad  to  see  that  she 
laid  aside  her  airs  in  Lareau's  company.  He's  too  good  a 
fellow  to  be  blown  about  by  the  capricious  breath  of  a  flirt. 
He  has  interests  in  Cuba,  so  it  is  likely  enough  he  would  be 
of  our  party." 

It  was  decided  that  Zoe  should  go  down  to  the  city  with 
her  brother  and  be  married  there  in  church,  and  after  this 
point  was  settled,  Eoy  sat  talking  till  Kate  declared  her 
patient  needed  a  rest  after  his  "infliction  of  tongue,"  and 
would  not  be  satisfied  till  she  had  put  her  in  bed  and  seen 
her  smiling  at  them  from  the  pillows,  sweetly,  but  with 
eyes  that  seemed  to  have  much  ado  to  hold  back  their  tears. 
They  flowed  freely  when  she  was  alone. 

"  Oh  !  how  mean  and  ungrateful  I  am  !"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "  to  deceive  him  so ;  to  marry  him  loving  another 
man,  thinking  always  of  that  other  one,  as  I  can  not  help 


358  ^^^^^    WORK. 

doing.  But  I  told  him  once,  and  lie  said  it  was  a  roman- 
tic fancy  I  would  get  over.  I  have  not  gotten  oyer  it,  and 
now  I  shrink  from  speaking  of  it  again,  since  I  have  re- 
newed my  promise,  and  have  come  so  near  marrying  him 
that  it  almost  seems  that  I  am  his  wife.  Oh  !  how  will  it 
end,  I  wonder  ?  It  can  not  go  on  like  this  ;  I  should  feel 
guilty  and  wretched  all  the  time.  If  marriage  does  not 
cure  me,  I  shall  despair.  They  say  that,  once  married,  a 
woman  is  sure  to  love  her  husband,  provided  he  is  at  all 
lovable  ;  Roy  is  kind,  and  I  am  truly  attached  to  him ;  I 
thought  I  loved  him  until  I  met  Hirne ;  I  have  caused  him 
so  much  annoyance  and  trouble  ;  I  have  disconcerted  his 
plans  so  often  by  putting  off  this  marriage,  and  now  I  am 
again  begging  for  delay.  But  it  must  be  the  last  time.  I 
have  the  best  of  excuses  now  ;  I  am  really  too  ill  to  be  ex- 
cited by  a  marriage  ceremony.  As  soon  as  I  recover 
strength  I  will  go  down  with  Hugh  and — oh  I  I  wish  Roy 
zoould  be  happy  and  pleased  with  me  to  let  things  stay  as 
they  are." 

Royal  returned  to  the  city,  and  the  next  week  Kate  fol- 
lowed him.  She  had  preparations  to  make  for  her  own 
marriage.  The  days  went  by,  Zoe  recovered  her  health, 
but  she  was  so  grave  that  Mrs.  Hugh  grieved  over  her  lack 
of  spirits,  and  the  children  missed  their  romps  with  their 
pretty  and  agile  aunty.  She  heard  nothing  of  Hirne. 
True  to  his  promise,  he  had  gone  away.  The  troops  were 
still  quartered  in  Cohatchie,  greatly  to  the  annoyance  of 
the  town  and  the  disappointment  of  the  party  who  had 
hoped  to  carry  the  election,  now  near  at  hand.  They  had 
expected  the  troops  would  be  withdrawn,  and  the  men  who 
had  been  arrested  would  be  released  on  their  giving  bond 
to  appear  when  their  trial  was  held.  Alver  nominated  his 
ticket  in  prison,  and  still  hoped  to  be  out  in  time  to  rally 
his  friends  to  the  polls.    He  was  disappointed ;  the  troops  re- 


WILD    WOEE,  359 

mained  after  they  had  made  all  the  arrests  they  seemed  able 
or  anxious  to  make,  and  when  the  election  came  their  pres- 
ence defeated  the  hopes  of  Alver.  Men  from  the  surround- 
ing neighborhood  would  not  come  in  to  vote  for  fear  of 
being  arrested,  while  the  negroes  and  the  poorer  whites 
from  the  *^  Hills,"  who  were  known  as  WitchelFs  friends, 
came  to  a  man,  and  many,  who  had  been  won  over  to  Alyer's 
cause  by  his  eloquence  and  energy,  now  voted  with  the 
other  side  through  fear  or  policy,  or  because  the  presence 
of  the  dashing  and  powerful  cavalry  influenced  their  igno- 
rant imaginations. 

When  the  election  came,  the  prisoners,  strongly  guarded, 
went  to  the  polls  and  voted,  and  returned  to  prison.  But 
their  presence  and  their  efforts  on  the  election  ground 
availed  nothing.     Their  ticket  was  defeated. 

Witchell  was  reelected,  but  his  success  gave  him  no 
pleasure  beyond  a  fierce  feeling  of  triumph  over  these  peo- 
ple who  had  shown  themselves  so  determinedly  opposed  to 
him.  His  feelings  toward  them,  which  had  never  been  bit- 
ter before,  were  now  full  of  revenge.  He  seemed  to  see 
in  every  man  the  slayer  of  his  brother. 

To  add  to  his  bitterness  there  was  the  disappointment  he 
felt  in  the  action  of  the  Government  in  regard  to  the  mur- 
derers of  his  friends.  He  had  looked  for  and  demanded 
summary  punishment,  and  he  had  met  with  delay  and  in- 
definiteness.  He  feared  that  the  action  of  the  Government 
upon  the  case  would  amount  to  nothing  after  all,  and  it  was 
galling  to  him  to  know  that  the  reason  was  because  the  party 
in  power,  conscious  of  the  number  of  incompetent  and  un- 
worthy men  it  had  put  in  office  through  the  South,  was 
afraid  to  prosecute  inquiries  lest  blacker  developments 
should  be  brought  to  light  to  the  damage  of  the  party. 
"  Stir  not  a  dung-hill,"  says  a  coarse  old  proverb. 

Evil  reacts  on  itself.     In  this  case  evil  had  begotten 


360  WILD    WORK. 

evil  which  it  was  afraid  to  punish,  lest  its  own  wickedness 
should  be  more  fully  exposed.  The  license  permitted  to 
those  who  administered  rule  at  the  South  had  tempted 
Marshall  WitchelFs  ambition  and  love  of  gain,  and  the 
people  had  pushed  their  protest  against  his  exactions  to  tlie 
deplorable  extreme  of  mob  and  murder. 

Nor  did  the  wave  of  evil  stop  here.  A  spirit  of  strife 
was  now  engendered  in  the  town  that  had  been  the  scene 
of  the  riot.  Suspicion  and  dissension  poisoned  social  in- 
tercourse. Men  who  had  been  friends  now  looked  upon 
each  other  as  traitors  or  spies ;  the  little  community  was 
broken  into  cliques,  each  of  which  suspected  the  other  of 
intriguing  against  it. 

It  was  now  known  that  the  prisoners  would  be  tried  in 
New  Orleans  by  commissioners  appointed  by  the  Govern- 
ment. Meantime  the  actual  leaders  of  the  mob  of  lynch- 
ers had  never  been  captured,  though  large  rewards  were 
offered  for  their  arrest.  Yet  two  of  them,  Cobb  and  Cap- 
tain Dick  (who  was  no  other  than  Lanier), were  in  hiding  not 
far  from  Cohatchie,  and  occasionally,  in  different  disguises, 
they  would  slip  into  the  town  or  dash  in  recklessly  past  the 
guard  on  dark  nights,  speak  to  their  friends,  throw  letters, 
and  receive  packages  of  eatables  or  papers,  and  escape  by 
outrunning  and  baffling  their  pursuers.  Lanier  had  man- 
aged to  obtain  possession  of  the  uniform  of  a  United  States 
soldier,  and  in  this  dress  he  had  more  than  once  rode  into 
town,  looked  around,  and  got  away  without  being  found 
out.  He  had  his  eye  upon  Witchell,  and  he  watched  for 
an  opportunity  to  "pick  him  off,"  as  he  said,  without  ex- 
posing himself  to  capture.  But  no  such  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself.  Witchell  kept  within  the  protection  of  the 
troops.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  cautious. 
"They  shall  not  have  the  i)leasure  of  killing  me  yet,"  he 
said,  "not  till  I  have  wrought  my  will  upon  them."     La- 


WILD    WOEK.  361 

nier  had  stealthy  glimpses  of  him  sometimes  as  he  rode 
about  with  officers  of  the  cavalry,  his  figure  erect,  his  eye 
still  cold  and  keen,  his  pride  apparently  unchecked,  his 
prosperity  undiminished.  None  knew  of  the  disappointed 
feeling  that  gnawed  in  secret  on  his  heart. 

*'  Curse  him  !"  muttered  Lanier,  "  I'll  be  even  with  him 
yet.  All  the  while  I  was  away  something  kept  telling  me 
to  come  back  and  kill  him — the  villain  that  stole  my  love 
from  me  and  made  me  a  vagabond.  I  came  at  last  to  find 
her  dead,  no  doubt  through  him,  and  to  find  revenge  pos- 
sible to  me  now,  for  the  people  will  protect  me  in  what  I 
may  do  to  him.  I've  killed  one  of  the  brood,  but  that  only 
whets  my  appetite.  I'll  never  rest  till  I've  put  him  out  of 
the  world." 

He  would  utter  some  of  these  savage  threats  to  Cobb  as 
the  two  broiled  their  game  over  the  camp  fire  in  their 
hiding-place — an  out-of-the-way  nook  in  the  heart  of  a 
swamp  back  of  Clear  Lake — a  nook  surrounded  by  bayous 
(with  mud,  alligators,  and  quicksand),  whose  fordable 
places  were  known  only  to  the  initiated.  Cobb  encouraged 
his  ferocity  and  laughed,  well-  pleased.  He  himself  was 
gi'owing  more  irritated  and  impatient  every  day.  His  hope 
of  office  had  proved  a  delusion,  and  he  was  unable  to 
carry  away  the  prize  for  which  he  had  worked  in  such  dark 
ways — the  woman  who  had  so  long  been  the  object  of  his 
fierce  passion,  whom  he  would  have  seized  and  carried  off, 
only  he  stood  in  awe  of  her  strong  will,  and  feared  to  make 
her  hate  him.  He  did  not  know  she  already  hated  him, 
and  only  hid  her  feelings  lest  she  should  excite  him  to  des- 
peration, and  make  him  betray  her  secret.  He  was  eager 
to  hold  her  to  her  promise  that  she  would  go  away  with 
him  if  he  did  the  work  she  required.  He  had  done  the 
work — more  than  she  had  named  at  first ;  it  was  no  fault  of 
his  if  it  had  failed  of  its  expected  result.     But  now  slio 


302  WILD   WOBK, 

showed  no  inclination  to  fulfill  her  promise.  The  presence 
of  the  troops  gave  him  little  opportunity  to  urge  it  upon 
her.  In  his  stealthy  or  flying  trips  into  town  he  could 
barely  get  a  glimpse  at  or  a  word  with  her,  hardly  ever  in 
private,  and  she  refused  to  meet  him  in  the  woods  for  the 
sake  of  his  safety,  she  said,  as  well  as  her  own  reputation. 
She,  at  least,  dreaded  the  time  when  the  withdrawal  of  the 
troops  would  put  her  in  his  power,  and  give  him  the  oppor- 
tunity to  force  her  to  close  her  bargain  with  him — the  ex- 
overseer,  the  murderer  of  her  husband,  the  man  she  loathed 
more  every  day  as  she  grew  to  care  more  passionately  for 
Alver.  She  showed  herself  womanly  in  this,  at  least,  that 
she  did  not  forsake  Alver  after  his  failure.  She  attached 
herself  all  the  more  closely  to  him  and  to  his  cause.  She 
sought  to  console  and  cheer  him,  refusing  to  see  how  such 
consolation  from  her  seemed  to  irritate  and  madden  him. 

'*This  failure  is  nothing,"  she  said  as  she  arranged  in 
a  jar  on  his  table  the  flowers  his  little  girl  had  brought  to 
the  prison  for  him.  *^  This  defeat  is  only  the  stepping- 
stone  to  success  in  future.  These  very  troops  who  have 
caused  your  failure  here  will  help  you  in  the  end.  Already 
their  arrogance  and  impositions  disgust  the  common  people, 
and  even  the  negroes  who  are  the  Radical  strength.  Next 
time  your  success  will  be  sure.  And  long  before  next  elec- 
tion, Witchell's  place  will  be  vacant.  Only  the  troops 
protect  him  now.  When  they  are  withdrawn  he  will  come 
here  sometime  to  see  after  his  interests,  for  he  is  daring 
enough,  and  whenever  he  comes  he  will  be  killed." 

"Talk  no  more  to  me  of  killing,  for  God's  sake  !  I  am 
sick  of  bloodshed,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  away  with  a  ges- 
ture of  such  distaste  for  her  words  and  for  her  that  she 
grew  pale.  She  controlled  herself,  saying  only  in  a  tone  of 
gentle  reproach  : 

**I  merely  wanted  to  speak  of  how  near  you  miglit  be. 


WILD    WORK.  363 

in  spite  of  this  failure,  to  the  end  you  have  been  working 
for." 

**I  had  better  make  sure  of  my  neck  or  my  liberty  be- 
fore I  begin  to  think  again  of  political  honors,"  he  said, 
with  a  sneer.  "  I  have  this  trial  before  me,  and,  perhaps,  a 
gallows  or  a  State-prison.  The  commissioners  appointed 
to  try  us  are  now  in  the  city.  We  go  down  Thursday  on 
the  Alma." 

It  was  the  steamboat  in  which  Zoe  and  her  brother  were 
going  to  the  city.  Thursday  night  Zoe  sat  opposite  the 
chief  prisoner  at  the  tea-table.  Very  little  like  a  prisoner 
he  looked.  His  clear-cut  face  was  paler  and  thinner  than 
it  had  been  before,  and  a  shade  of  care,  and  of  something 
darker  and  more  restless  than  care,  was  in  his  eyes ;  but  his 
old  high-bred  politeness,  dashed  with  haughtiness,  still  dis- 
tinguished his  manners ;  his  smile  had  its  old  charm,  and 
his  voice  its  tone  of  command.  Zoe  and  her  brother  lis- 
tened to  him  talk  to  a  group  of  men  that  gathered  around 
him  after  supper.  He  was  wary  and  reticent  at  first,  but 
presently  something  was  said  that  touched  his  quick  spirit, 
and  his  eye  flashed  and  his  tones  rang  out  rapid  and  im- 
perious. 

"The  commissioners  will  get  the  better  of  him,"  said 
Hugh  to  his  sister.  "  He  is  too  proud,  and  not  wily  enough 
to  stand  their  cross-examination.  He  will  betray  himself. 
The  only  hope  is  that  they  will  not  care  to  press  the  inyes- 
tigation  far  just  now.  If  it  was  before  instead  of  just  after 
a  Presidential  and  other  important  elections,  no  pains 
would  be  spared  to  make  large  electioneering  capital  out  of 
it ;  but  the  battle  has  been  won,  and  it  is  not  worth  while 
working  this  up.  It  could  not  be  put  to  much  use  just 
now." 

Affairs  of  his  own  had  called  Hugh  to  town  several  days 
earlier  than  he  had  intended.     The  change  in  the  time  of 


361  WILD   WORK. 

starting  was  rather  suddenly  decided  upon,  and  Zoe  had 
not  written  to  Koy  to  apprise  him  of  it.  He  was  not  there 
to  meet  them,  therefore,  when  the  boat  steamed  into  the 
harbor  through  the  anchored  vessels  of  all  kinds  and 
countries,  their  masts  and  chimneys  reddened  by  the  set- 
ting sun.  Taking  a  carriage,  Hugh  and  his  sister  drove 
to  the  house  of  Dr.  Melvin,  whose  wife — a  handsome  so- 
ciety lady — was  Zoe's  cousin,  and  gave  her  a  cordial  wel- 
come. Hugh,  preferring  the  freedom  of  the  hotel,  went 
to  take  possession  of  his  old  room  at  the  St.  Charles.  Mrs. 
Melvin  carried  Zoe  to  her  room,  lit  the  wax  candles  on  the 
toilet  table,  and  examined  her  critically. 

''You  are  paler  than  you  were  last  spring ;  but  brides 
should  be  a  little  pale,  and  you  are  pretty  as  a  white 
camellia.  Take  a  bath  and  a  cup  of  tea,  and  then  get  your- 
self into  full  dress,  ready  for  going  out.  You  are  fortunate 
in  having  come  this  evening.  It  is  an  opera  night,  and  we 
have  a  new  tenor  who  is  perfectly  ravishing." 

"  That  is  tempting  after  months  of  starvation  in  music, 
but — ought  I  not  to  let  Roy  know  I  am  here,  and  see  him 
to-night  ?  " 

'*  To-morrow  will  do  as  well.  I  am  sure  he  will  be  at 
the  theatre  to-night.  He  was  there  last  evening  in  his 
partner's.  Judge  Taylor's,  box,  with  the  Judge's  daughter 
Florence.  She  has  been  back  from  boarding-school  only  a 
few  weeks,  and  is  very  pretty.  Cliere,  I  would  give  Royal 
a  lecture  ;  he  was  devoted  to  Miss  Taylor." 

''  Was  he  ?"  smiled  Zoe,  absently,  as  she  let  fall  the  dark 
mass  of  her  hair. 

"Yes,  and  the  Taylor  family  would  be  delighted  to 
make  a  match  between  them.  You  are  a  thousand  times 
lovelier  than  Florence — what  hair  you  have  ! — but  these 
young  debutantes  are  irresistible  to  men  somehow.  We  can 
only  see  bread-and-butter  crudeness,  or  vanity  that  has  not 


WILD    WORE.  365 

the  art  to  hide  itseK.  Make  yourself  splendid,  Zoe  ;  I  will 
send  Lousette  to  help  you.  She  will  take  delight  in  hand- 
ling this  lovely  hair  again." 

Zoe  had  handsome  dresses,  for  she  had  a  taste  for  ele- 
gance, and  had  some  means  of  her  own  ;  besides,  her  father 
and  brother  had  been  liberal  in  the  matter  of  her  trousseau. 
She  laid  out  some  rich  silks,  trimmed  profusely  with  Span- 
ish laces — sent  by  her  father  from  Cuba — before  she  decided 
to  wear  something  that  would  make  her  least  conspicuous 
— a  black  silk,  relieved  by  delicate  lace  with  pearl  and  coral 
jewelry,  and  a  little  pearl-gray  hat  and  plume.  Thus 
dressed,  she  accompanied  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Melvin  to  the  opera. 
There  was  a  crowd,  but  her  party  occupied  reserved  seats 
in  a  position  that  enabled  them  to  see  without  themselves 
being  conspicuous. 

^'  There  is  Eoy  now,  in  the  box  with  Miss  Taylor," 
whispered  Mrs.  Melvin  as  soon  as  she  had  swept  the  room 
with  her  lorgnette. 

Zoe  turned  her  head  and  saw  him  seated  by  a  pretty, 
fresh-looking  girl  in  white.  She  held  herself  in  readiness 
to  catch  his  eye,  and  smile  at  his  stare  of  surprise  and 
pleasure,  but  he  did  not  look  in  her  direction.  He  was 
occupied  with  his  partner,  fanning  her,  bending  to  talk  to 
her  or  to  listen  when  she  spoke.  Zoe  changed  her  mind. 
She  pulled  a  corner  of  her  light,  pearl-tinted  veil  so  as  to 
shade  her  face,  and  watched  those  two  in  the  lace-curtained 
box. 

Before  the  ravishing  tenor  had  bowed  over  his  final  ova- 
tion of  flowers  she  had  made  a  discovery.  She  saw  that 
Roy  loved  this  fresh  young  school-girl,  and  that  the  admi- 
ration was  mutual.  The  girl,  unconsciously  it  might  be, 
was  fascinated  by  her  father's  handsome  young  partner. 
Roy's  attentions  to  her  were  by  no  means  so  exigeant  as  to 
attract  notice  ;  Zoe  even  saw  tokens  of  self-restraint  on  his 


336  WILD    WORE, 

part,  but  her  quick  eye  and  her  woman's  intuition  showed 
her  a  dozen  subtile  indications  of  love. 

After  the  first  shock  of  surprise  and  mortified  vanity 
there  came  a  feeling  of  relief.  The  marriage  might  be  an- 
nulled and  no  wrong  done  to  Roy  or  to  her  own  honor. 
He  had  not  seen,  or  seeing  had  not  recognized,  her  under 
that  light  gauze,  and  she  would  not  permit  Mrs.  Melvin  to 
make  any  sign  to  draw  his  notice  to  her. 

"  To-morrow  will  be  quite  soon  enough,"  she  said.  **  I 
will  send  him  a  note  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Melvin,  who  secretly  thought  Zoe  had  a  right  to 
be  a  bit  jealous,  was  surprised  at  her  gay  spirits  that  night. 
After  the  opera  she  sang  and  talked  for  Dr.  Melvin,  who 
was  a  charming,  gray-haired  old  gentleman,  twenty  years 
older  than  his  wife,  and  so  gallantly  devoted  to  Zoe  that 
Mrs.  Melvin  declared  he  had  no  eyes  for  any  one  else  when 
she  was  by. 

Before  Zoe  could  send  her  note  next  morning  Roy  was 
at  the  door.  He  had  met  Hugh  on  the  street,  and  came 
full  of  reproaches  that  she  had  not  let  him  know  of  her 
arrival  the  evening  before.  Through  all  his  fluency  of  talk 
Zoe  detected  the  nervous  embarrassment  he  tried  to  hide. 
She  herself  was  cool  and  smiling,  and,  with  perfect  self- 
possession  and  easy  flow  of  question  and  comment,  she  did 
her  best  to  restore  his  composure.  He  did  not  know  that 
she  had  been  at  the  opera  the  night  before,  and  she  made 
no  allusion  to  it.  He  had  brought  her  a  basket  of  grapes, 
on  the  top  of  which  lay  a  roll  of  music — a  new  waltz,  he 
said  ;  and  Zoe,  in  the  lull  of  the  conversation,  sat  down  and 
tried  a  few  bars.     Then  she  said  : 

*'It  is  a  wonder  you  did  not  bring  a  song ;  you  always 
do.  I  have  not  forgotten  your  partiality  for  simple  melo- 
dies, and  have  fitted  one,  for  you  especially,  to  a  little  poem 
you  have  read." 


WILD   WORK.  367 

She  struck  a  few  chords  and  sang  a  few  verses  of  ^^  Mrs. 
Proctor's  Woman's  Question  "  : 

"Before  I  trust  my  fate  to  thee, 

Or  place  my  hand  in  thine, 
Before  I  let  thy  future  give 

Color  and  form  to  mine, 
Before  I  peril  all  for  thee, 
Question  thy  soul  to-day  for  me." 

Glancing  at  him  now  and  then  as  she  sang,  she  saw  how 
restless  the  song  with  its  searching  questions,  and  her  own 
earnest  tones,  made  him.  His  color  fluctuated,  and  at  last, 
as  if  unable  to  bear  the  probe  upon  his  feelings,  he  rose  and 
walked  the  room.  Her  eye  arrested  him  and  drew  him  to 
her  as  she  sang  one  special  verse.  She  looked  at  him 
steadily,  and  it  was  a  question,  heart  to  heart,  direct  as  if 
spoken,  and  more  solemn  and  impressive,  when  she  sang  : 

"  Is  there  within  thy  heart  a  need 

That  mine  can  not  fulfill  ? 
One  chord  that  any  other  hand 

Could  better  wake  or  still  ? 
Speak  now,  lest  at  some  future  day 
My  whole  life  wither  and  decay." 

The  fresh  color  that  was  natural  to  him  was  gone  out 
of  his  face  when  she  had  finished.  He  looked  troubled 
and  conscience-stricken.  He  walked  aimlessly  about  the 
room,  and  then  came  and  stood  by  her  and  looked  at  her 
without  speaking. 

''  There  is  something  you  want  to  tell  me  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 
she  asked,  looking  up  and  smiling. 

He  was  very  grave.  ^'No,"  he  said,  "there  is  nothing 
I  want  to  tell  you. " 

"Then  there  is  something  you  do  not  want  to  tell  me, 
but  feel  that  you  ought.     I  can  guess  what  it  is." 


368  WILD    WORK. 

**  You  can  not  guess,"  he  said,  hoarsely. 

"Then  there  is  something." 

"  Nothing  except — except  that  I  liked  your  song.  Your 
voice  has  improyed." 

"  Thank  you.  But  you  are  not  candid.  There  is  some- 
thing else,  and  I  have  guessed  it.  You  love  Miss  Taylor — 
your  partner's  daughter." 

He  started  from  his  seat. 

"Who  said  so?  Who  has  dared  to  tell  3"ou  such  a 
thing?" 

"No  one.  I  saw  it  myself.  I  was  at  the  opera  last 
night,  and  I  watched  you  unseen.  I  saw  as  plainly,  as  if  his 
heart  had  been  bared  to  me,  that  the  man  who  was  betrothed 
to  me,  whom  I  came  here  to  marry,  loved  another." 

"  0  Zoe  !  I  had  hoped — I  mean  you  must  not  think 
such  a  thing.     It  is  absurd. " 

"It  is  true." 

"And  you  tell  me  so  with  such  kind  looks  !  Though 
you  must  feel  that  I  am  a  base  wretch  without  truth  or 
honor.  But,  Zoe,  I  swear  I  never  dreamed  of  wronging 
you.  This  came  on  me  unlocked  for.  I  never  thought 
there  was  danger  until  the  mischief  was  well  begun.  I 
went  with  Florence  because  her  father  asked  it.  He  never 
goes  into  society,  likes  his  comfort  at  home  when  he  is  not 
engaged  with  his  business,  and  he  requested  me  to  attend 
his  young  daughter.  I  found  her  attractive  from  the  first. 
I  was  with  her  often  ;  she  knew  scarcely  any  one,  and  she 
clung  to  me  in  a  timid,  girlish  way.     She  liked  me — " 

"She  loves  you,"  Zoe  interrupted. 

"  I  believe  she  does,"  he  groaned.  "  Yet  I  told  her  of 
my  engagement  to  you.  I  have  never  said  a  word  of  love 
to  her.  God  knows  I  had  no  intention  of  playing  the  vil- 
lain. I  tried  to  keep  away  from  her,  but  her  father  would 
send  for  me,  and  seemed  hurt  if  I  did  not  come  as  I  had 


WILD    WORK.  369 

been  in  the  habit  of  coming  while  she  was  at  school.  For  a 
long  time  I  deceived  myself  into  the  belief  that  it  was  mere 
friendly  interest  I  felt  in  Florence  ;  I  thought  so  until  a  few 
nights  ago,  and  then —  But  no  matter  ;  Zoe,  can  you  for- 
give me  ?  After  all,  you  are  partly  to  blame.  Those  mis- 
erable, long  engagements !  they  never  end  well.  You 
would  put  off  our  marriage. " 

"I  am  glad  I  did." 

"  Glad  !  My  God  !  Glad  that  I  have  been  tempted  to 
become  unworthy  of  your  confidence  !  But  I  will  deserve 
it  better  in  future.  Bear  with  me,  Zoe — my  love,  my 
only  love.  Yes,  it  shall  be.  I  will  get  the  better  of  this 
folly.  You  shall  have  no  fault  to  find  with  me  when  we 
are  married,  dear.     I  will  be  worthy  of  your  true  heart. " 

*^True?  You  forget  that  I  once  confessed  a  similar 
folly  to  you." 

*^  Wlien  ?  Ah  !  that  was  only  a  passing  fancy,  a  roman- 
tic dream." 

•*It  was  a  lasting  reality.  It  has  lived  in  my  heart  ever 
since." 

*^Zoe?" 

^*  Yes,  my  friend.  You  will  not  blame  me  now  for  say- 
ing I  am  glad  this  marriage  was  put  off.  Fate  has  had  a 
hand  in  it.  I  love  another  better  than  I  do  you.  I  had 
trusted  to  marriage  to  conquer  it.  I  could  not  bear  to 
wound  you  by  breaking  a  promise  you  had  waited  so  long 
and  faithfully  for  me  to  fulfill.  Now  I  know  I  shall  do 
you  no  harm  by  refusing  to  marry  you.  And  so  I  do  re- 
fuse you — ^now." 

"  But,  Zoe,  I  can  not  permit —    Are  you  sure — " 

'*  I  am  sure  I  will  not  marry  you  ;  sure  it  does  not  break 
my  heart  to  give  you  up  ;  sure  another  girl  would  be  hap- 
pier as  your  wife  than  I  would  be  ;  sure  you  will  be  happier 
with  that  one  than  with  me,  and  sure  that  we  shall  yet  have 


370  WILD   WORK. 

a  wedding,  although  I  now  give  you  back  your  ring — a  wed- 
ding with  a  fairer  and  more  loving  bride  than  I,  who  has 
my  heartiest  good  wishes  for  her  happiness,  and  whom  I 
hope  to  know,  and  am  sure  that  I  shall  love." 

She  never  looked  prettier  in  her  life  than  when  she 
stood  before  him  delivering  this  little  speech,  with  her  black 
eyes  sparkling  roguishly,  a  flush  on  her  cheek,  and  the  little 
silky  rings  of  hair  trembling  on  her  forehead.  She  was 
dressed  with  care ;  she  was  willing  to  give  up  her  lover ; 
but,  with  a  pardonable  womanly  weakness,  she  wanted  to 
make  him  feel  what  he  had  lost,  and  regret  being  given 
up  just  a  little.  He  did  feel  the  value  of  what  he  had  lost. 
He  thought  as  he  looked  at  her  that  Florence  Taylor  could 
never  be  such  a  woman,  and  that  he  would  always  miss  in 
her  that  variety,  that  quick  sympathy,  and  that  spirituelle 
charm  which  had  kept  him  at  Zoe's  feet  so  long.  But  it 
was  too  late  to  encourage  any  such  regret.  Confessions 
had  been  made  upon  both  sides  that  would  rise  up  awk- 
wardly at  the  marriage  altar.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  mo- 
ment's longing.  How  adorable  she  seemed,  now  that  she 
was  not  his  any  longer  !  He  would  get  over  this  in  a  little 
while — when  he  met  Florence  again — but  now  he  felt,  most 
unreasonably,  a  jealous  pang. 

"And  you —  ?"  he  said. 

'*I  shall  probably  never  marry — never,  certainly,  unless 
I  meet  again  the  hero  of  my  '  romantic  dream,'  as  you  call 
it." 

"Who  is  he?  I  do  not  believe  he  is  worthy  of  you. 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  never  may  see  him  again.  But  I 
will  not  anticipate  evil.  Do  you  know  we  have  been  talk- 
ing nearly  three  hours  ?  "  (consulting  her  tiny  watch)  "  and 
I  must  dress  to  go  on  Canal  Street  with  Cousin  Clara. 
Will  Kate  come  to  see  me  this  afternoon  ?  " 


WILD    WORK.  371 


a 


Yes.  She  is  in  Carrollton  visiting  Maude  Blake.  I 
have  sent  for  her.  Zoe,  what  will  Kate  think,  what  will 
all  our  friends  think,  of  our  marriage  being  broken  off  ?  " 

''  Tell  them  the  truth — that  it  is  broken  off  by  mutual 
consent.  It  may  excite  wonder  and  a  little  gossip ;  but 
what  is  that  to  a  marriage  in  which  our  hearts  do  not 
wholly  enter  ?  And,  Roy,  go  and  tell  Miss  Florence  that 
you  are  free  and  that  you  love  her. '' 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Kate  came  to  see  Zoe  in  the  afternoon,  but  there  was 
other  company,  and  the  two  girls  had  no  opportunity  for  a 
word  in  private. 

^^I  will  call  round  this  evening  with  Roy,"  Kate  said  as 
she  was  going  away. 

"  Come  to  tea,"  Mrs.  Melvin  urged,  not  caring  to  add 
that  she  had  planned  a  kind  of  family  party,  having  in- 
vited Hugh  and  Winter  Lareau,  whom  she  met  on  the 
street,  to  come  and  partake  of  oysters  and  champagne. 
Later  in  the  afternoon  she  invited  another  person,  no  other 
than  little  Florence  Taylor  herself,  not  as  properly  belong- 
ing to  the  family  party,  but  for  a  purpose  of  her  own. 
Quite  unexpectedly.  Miss  Florence  called  just  before  sun- 
set, sending  her  card  to  Zoe,  who  received  her  cordially  and 
did  her  best  to  put  her  visitor  at  ease.  "  She  was  curious  to 
see  Roy's  betrothed,"  thought  imaginative  Mrs.  Melvin,  and 
she  was  sure  it  was  jealousy  that  made  the  girl  watch  the 
face  and  follow  the  movements  of  the  beautiful  woman 
with  such  intentness. 

Zoe  saw  otherwise.  She  pitied  Florence's  embarrass- 
ment, she  saw  dejection  in  her  intent  look,  and  she  felt  the 


372  WILD   WORK. 

quiver  of  hopelessness  in  the  girl's  voice  when,  taking  Zoe's 
offered  hand  at  parting  and  looking  into  her  face,  she  said  : 

**  Your  picture  is  like  you,  only  you  are  much  lovelier. 
No  wonder  Mr.  West  loves  you  so." 

^'  Have  you  seen  Royal  to-day  ?"  Zoe  asked. 

"  Yes ;  he  dined  with  us.  He  had  promised  several 
days  ago.     This  is  my  father's  birthday." 

*^And  did  he  tell  you  anything — anything  very  par- 
ticular ? "  Zoe  asked,  looking  at  her  and  holding  the  little 
gloved  hand  between  her  warm  palms. 

"  He  told  me  you  had  come  and  he  had  seen  you." 

'^Nothing  else  ?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  He  talked  but  little  ;  he  said  he  was  not  well." 

"  There  is  something  more  that  he  ought  to  have  told 
you — that  he  will  tell  you,"  Zoe  said,  smiling  caressingly 
into  the  wondering  young  face. 

She  would  have  said  more,  so  sorry  was  she  to  see  that 
fair  face  clouded  with  despondency,  but  Mrs.  Melvin  came 
in  at  this  moment  with  her  invitation  for  Florence  to  come 
to  tea. 

**  There  will  only  be  two  or  three  friends,"  she  said. 
**  Mr.  Lareau,  Royal  West,  and  his  sister.  Zoe  and  her 
brother  are  only  home  folks." 

The  girl  hesitated.  She  knew  it  would  give  her  pain 
to  see  Royal's  devotion  to  this  lovely  lady,  but  the  human 
heart,  especially  the  heart  of  the  young,  has  a  perverse 
desire  to  inflict  pain  on  itself.  Then  she  could  not  help 
wishing  to  see  the  betrothed  pair  together,  and  to  watch 
Roy's  manner  to  the  lady  of  his  love.  Could  his  looks  be 
much  more  tender  than  some  he  had  bestowed  upon  her  ? 

'^1  will  come,  Mrs.  Melvin,"  she  said,  ''if  I  can  get 
any  one  to  accompany  me.  My  father  never  goes  out,  you 
know." 


WILD    WORK,  373 

^^I'll  send  my  Doctor,"  Mrs.  Melvin  said,  gayly,  '^and 
a  handsomer  beau  can  not  be  found  in  the  city." 

Florence  laughed  and  thanked  her,  and  so  the  question 
was  settled.  There  was  a  spice  of  malice  in  Mrs.  Melvin's 
motiyes  for  this  cordial  invitation.  She  was  Zoe's  devoted 
adherent,  and  resented  in  her  behalf  the  attentions  Eoyal 
had  lately  paid  to  Miss  Taylor.  "He  looked  glum  this 
morning  when  he  came  to  see  Zoe,"  she  thought.  "The 
new  face  has  something  to  do  with  it.  Like  most  men,  he  is 
a  ninny  over  every  fresh,  new  face.  Can't  he  compare  these 
two  and  see  how  superior  my  Zoe  is  to  the  other  ?  He  shall 
have  an  opportunity  to  make  the  comparison  to-night. 
Mr.  Lareau  is  a  fine  singer,  and  the  Doctor  is  a  splendid 
conversationalist.  He  will  draw  Zoe  out  into  talking  as 
she  can  talk,  and  she  and  Winter  will  sing  together,  and 
Miss  Florence,  who  neither  sings  nor  talks  well,  will  be 
eclipsed  so  far  that  Eoy  West  will  see  what  a  simpleton  he 
is  to  waste  a  thought  upon  her  t^  hen  such  a  girl  as  Zoe  has 
condescended  to  love  him." 

They  all  came.  Zoe  was  radiant,  and  contributed 
greatly  to  the  pleasure  of  the  evening  by  her  tact  in  amus- 
ing people  and  making  them  feel  pleased  with  themselves. 
But  she  set  herself  quietly  against  being  '^  draiun  out'^  in 
order  to  overshadow  Miss  Taylor.  She  was  very  attentive 
to  Florence  ;  took  pains  to  lead  her  into  conversation  and 
make  her  appear  well.  Roy  had  not  expected  to  meet 
Florence  here  ;  had  not  prepared  himself  to  be  in  the  room 
at  the  same  time  with  the  woman  he  was  expected  to  marry 
and  the  girl  who  had  stolen  into  his  heart,  and  to  whom  he 
felt  his  manner  had  been  over-tender  for  a  preengaged  man. 
He  was  in  a  dilemma.  He  half  believed  Zoe  would  retract 
what  she  had  said,  that  she  had  been  prompted  by  pride 
and  Jealous  pique  to  break  off  with  him  as  she  had  done. 
He  thought  this  lover  of  the  "romantic  dream"  a  myth, 


37i  WILD    WOEK. 

or  a  bygone  delusion  brought  up  now  to  make  him  believe 
she  was  not  hurt  by  his  unfaithfulness.  He  had  adroitly 
sounded  Hugh  on  the  subject,  and  found  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  any  mysterious  lover  of  his  sister.  He  was  not 
fully  prepared  to  give  Zoe  up.  Her  attractions  had  never 
seemed  so  great  to  him  as  now.  What  a  pride  a  man 
would  feel  in  having  such  a  handsome  creature  at  the  head 
of  his  establishment !  And  then  if  the  marriage  was 
broken  off,  it  would  create  gossip,  and  he  had  a  proud 
man's  dislike  to  have  his  affairs  talked  about.  Yet  dear 
little  Florence  !  how  sweet  and  loving  she  was  !  Zoe  under- 
stood pretty  much  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  she 
determined  to  put  an  end  to  his  indecision.  She  would 
take  the  initiative  herself,  and  let  it  be  known  that  the 
marriage  was  not  to  be. 

An  opportunity  presented  itself.  Hugh  was  describing 
an  elaborately  designed  piece  of  silver-plate  that  Lareau 
had  ordered  as  a  gift  to  some  friends — -a  fruit-dish — the  de- 
sign a  chariot  drawn  by  doves  and  ornamented  with  wreaths 
of  myrtle  and  grape. 

"  A  wedding  present,  of  course,  and  we  can  guess  for 
whom  intended,"  Mrs.  Melvin  said,  looking  from  Zoe  to 
Eoyal. 

**  And  when  is  it  to  be  presented,  may  we  ask  ?"  ques- 
tioned Dr.  Melvin,  taking  off  his  gold-rimmed  spectacles 
and  smiling  benevolently  around.  **  We  are  all  in  the  fam- 
ily, as  it  were,  and  take  a  family  interest  in  our  two  young 
friends  here  ;  may  we  not  know  when  the  happy  day  is  to 
be,  Eoyal  ?  " 

Roy  colored  and  looked  confused. 

'*  I  refer  you  to  the  lady,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  abide 
by  her  decision." 

"  Why,  is  it  not  yet  decided  ?  Zoe,  are  you  another 
'  Sallie  of  the  Valley,'  who  had 


WILD   WORK,  375 

"  *  So  great  a  mind 
It  took  a  long  time  making  up ? '" 

^'  Yes,  it  is  decided,"  Zoe  said,  leaning  slightly  for- 
ward, her  elbow  resting  upon  a  stand  bearing  a  vase  of 
cut  flowers.  Her  cheeks  had  flushed,  but  her  mouth, 
though  almost  smiling,  expressed  firmness ;  her  look  was 
clear  and  earnest.  "It  is  decided  that  it  is  not  to  be  at 
all." 

She  waited  until  the  exclamations  of  surprise  had  sub- 
sided, and  continued  :  "  It  is  not  to  be  at  all.  Such  is  the 
mutual  and  amicable  agreement.  Both  of  us  discovered  at 
last  that  a  friendship,  warm  and  true  though  it  was,  was 
hardly  the  basis  a  marriage  ought  to  be  built  upon.  It  was 
better  to  have  found  it  out  before  than  after  the  irrevocable 
vows  had  passed  ;  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Zoe,  you  are  not  in  earnest,  surely  ?  "  came  indignant- 
ly from  Kate,  while  Hugh  stared  at  his  sister  in  speechless 
amazement. 

*^  Never  more  so.     Come,  my  friend,"  turning  to  Eoy, 

"  '  We  must  confirm  this  doubting  maid.' 

Is  it  not  so  that  by  mutual  consent  and  in  all  amity  we 
have  set  aside  our  proposed  partnership  and  agreed  to  re- 
main only  friends  ?  " 

She  went  up  to  him  and  held  out  her  hand  as  she 
spoke.  He  took  it,  got  up,  and  stood  by  her.  "It  is,"  he 
said. 

Before  he  spoke  his  eye  had  fallen  on  Florence,  had 
met  her  eager,  wistful  eyes  looking  at  him  from  a  face 
white  as  marble,  and  leant  forward  in  her  unconscious  in- 
tentness.  When  he  said  "It  is,"  she  drew  her  breath 
quickly  with  a  little  convulsive  exclamation.  Then  recol- 
lecting herself,  and  fearing  she  had  betrayed  her  secret,  she 


370  WILD    WORK. 

colored  crimson  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Zoe 
went  up  to  her  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  Dr.  Mel- 
vin  was  on  his  feet  making  a  playful  little  speech  to  the  ef- 
fect that  he  was  greatly  relieved  to  find  his  ^' queen  rose  of 
the  rose-bud  garden  of  girls  "  was  not  going  to  be  plucked 
by  the  ruthless  hand  of  Hymen.     He  had  long  had  his  eye 

upon  Miss  Zoe  as  a  second  partner,  in  case  Mrs.  M. " — 

nodding  his  iron-gray  head  over  to  his  wife — "  should  accom- 
modatingly leave  him  a  fascinating  young  widower.  He 
congratulated  the  pair  on  their  moral  courage  and  good 
sense  in  drawing  back  even  at  the  altar's  foot,  he  might 
say,  when  they  became  convinced  that  a  marriage  would 
not  promote  their  happiness. 

Then  he  opened  a  bottle  of  champagne  on  the  center- 
table  by  him,  and  proposed  the  health  and  prosperity  of  the 
two  who  had  dissolved  partnership. 

*^0  Zoe  !  how  could  you  ?"  asked  Kate,  reproachfully, 
when  she  could  get  a  moment  apart  with  her  friend. 

**  He  did  not  love  me,  Kate  ;  he  loved  another.  Could 
you  not  see  it  ?  " 

"That  Taylor  girl  ?  So  she  is  the  cause  of  this  ?  I 
thought  so.     I  shall  always  hate  her  for  it." 

"No,  you  must  not  She  is  a  sensible,  affectionate  girl, 
just  suited  to  Eoy,  and  she  loves  him  dearly." 

"She  is  unprincipled,  or  she  never  would  have  tempted 
him  away  from  you — tempted  him  to  break  his  honorable 
word  and  wrong  a  girl  worth  a  hundred  Florence  Tay- 
lors." 

"  The  temptation  was  unconscious  on  her  part.  Don't 
be  unjust,  Kate.  And  Roy  has  not  wronged  me,  dear. 
Let  me  tell  you  a  secret.  I  was  the  first  offender.  I  loved 
some  one  else  better  than  Eoy." 

"You?  Zoe,  I  don't  believe  you.  It's  impossible,  or 
I  should  have  known  it.     Why,  who  is  he  ?  " 


WILD    WORK,  377 

'^  Some  day  I  may  tell  you — if  I  ever  meet  him  again. 
If  I  never  do,  why,  then, 

"  '  Dear  fatal  name,  rest  ever  unrevealed.'  " 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

ZoE  had  been  several  weeks  in  New  Orleans.  Pleasant 
weeks  they  were,  though  she  felt  a  little  queer  at  seeing' 
Roy,  to  whom  she  had  always  been  a  first  consideration, 
now  giving  to  another  that  homage  she  had  so  long  been 
accustomed  to  receive  from  him.  The  November  weather 
was  as  mild  as  spring,  just  froscy  enough  to  give  sparkle  to 
the  autumn  sunshine.  Amusements  were  plentiful,  and 
Zee  enjoyed  the  opera  and  theatre,  the  drives  to  the  lake, 
and  the  walks  through  the  public  gardens  and  parks.  In 
one  of  these  walks  Zoe  encountered  her  old  acquaintance, 
Floyd  Reese,  accompanying  a  showy  woman,  highly  rouged 
and  youthfully  dressed,  but  no  longer  young.  Floyd,  with 
a  nod  and  smile,  passed  on. 

"Why,  that  is  Miss  Reese,  Colonel  Alver's  governess," 
said  Kate. 

**  Do  you  recognize  the  lady  she  is  with  ?  "  asked  Winter 
Lareau.  **You  saw  her  last  night  in  'East  Lpme,' but 
these  stage  stars  look  quite  differently  by  daylight.  She  is 
Miss  Duprez,  the  leading  actress  at  the  Varieties." 

''How  came  Floyd  Reese  to  know  her  so  well,  I  won- 
der?" 

"I  have  seen  the  same  lady  with  Miss  Duprez  several 
times.  Lance  tells  me  she  is  an  enthusiastic  friend  of  Miss 
Duprez — writes  poetry  in  her  praise  for  the  morning  papers, 
and  superintends  her  stage  toilets.     Pity  she  could  not  give 


378  WILD    WORK 

her  some  of  her  freshness.  It  would  be  worth  more  than 
the  dress  accessories." 

The  next  evening  they  went  again  to  the  Varieties  ;  the 
play  was  still  '*  East  Lynne,"  and  being  then  a  new  and 
popular  piece,  the  house  was  full.  When  the  heroine  of  the 
play  came  on  the  stage  the  audience  were  too  much  sur- 
prised to  greet  her  with  the  applause  usually  given  to  a  star 
on  her  appearance.  They  saw,  instead  of  Miss  Duprez, 
with  her  carefully-made-up  face  and  form,  a  new  face,  fresh 
and  beautiful ;  the  neck  and  arms  of  a  Greek  goddess,  hair 
in  sun-hued  waves  over  superb  shoulders — a  shape  at  once 
seductive  and  commanding.  Zoe  let  fall  her  opera-glass  in 
her  surprise. 

"It  is  Floyd  Reese,"  she  said  to  Kate. 

*^  How  in  the  world  did  she  manage  to  get  in  here  ? — a 
leading  part,  too.  I  can't  understand  it,"  said  Roy,  who 
was  with  them. 

''Hush!"  whispered  Kate,  "she  is  speaking;  she  has 
enough  of  the  debutante  to  make  her  voice  tremble  a  little." 

There  were  other  signs  of  the  dehutante — signs,  too,  of 
being  new  to  her  part — a  want  of  ease  and  readiness,  a  hesi- 
tation and  nervousness,  but  her  natural  grace,  her  self-re- 
liance, her  fine  voice,  and  her  beauty  tided  her  over  these, 
and  her  acting  was  successful.  The  witchery  of  the  woman 
triumphed  over  the  inexperience  of  the  actress.  Her  power 
increased  as  her  nervousness  wore  off,  and  when  the  curtain 
fell  on  the  first  act  she  was  loudly  called  for. 

"  Yonder's  Lance  coming  to  us  with  Lareau,"  Roy  said. 
"  Now  we  shall  hear  how  it  comes  that  we  have  a  new  star 
instead  of  Miss  Duprez." 

Lance,  a  slender,  long-limbed  young  fellow,  with  light 
hair  parted  in  the  middle,  and  fuzzy  mustache,  came  up, 
following  Lareau,  and  was  immediately  questioned  about 
the  new  appearance.     He  was  dramatic  critic  of  a  daily  pa- 


WILD    WORK.  379 

per,  and  occasionally  earned  a  few  dollars  by  polishing  up  or 
paring  down  plays  to  suit  managers'  requirements.  Hence 
he  knew  all  theatre  people,  sympathized  with  the  managers, 
was  permitted  behind  the  scenes,  where  he  offered  sugges- 
tions to  the  actresses  about  their  "make-up,"  and  drank 
beer  and  sherry  with  the  leading  ladies  and  gentlemen  be- 
tween the  acts.  Usually  Mr.  Lance's  printed  opinion  of 
these  leading  ladies  and  gentlemen  was  regulated  by  the 
amount  and  quality  of  the  wine,  or  of  the  supper  to  which 
he  was  treated  after  the  play.  He  took  pride  in  being  fa- 
miliar with  all  green-room  gossip. 

"Plays  pretty  well,  doesn't  she  ?"  he  said,  in  answer  to 
Roy's  questions  about  Miss  Reese.  "  Wonderful  well  when 
you  know  that  she  has  had  but  one  rehearsal  of  this  piece, 
and  never  acted  before  in  her  life.  Fact.  She  and  Miss 
Duprez  are  Damon  and  Pythias  in  petticoats.  The  Reese 
made  her  acquaintance  one  night  and  won  her  lasting 
graititude  by  being  equal  to  a  great  emergency,  fixing  the 
refractory  train  of  a  Worth  dress  that  refused  to  work  well 
at  the  last  moment.  They  became  inseparable.  The  Du- 
prez thinks  she  couldn't  make  a  stage  toilet  without  her 
friend's  taste  to  direct  it.  Miss  Reese  came  with  her  to 
all  rehearsals,  and  must  have  paid  strict  attention  to  this 
part,  for  she  claims  to  have  learned  it  at  these  rehearsals. 
They  went  out  driving  this  morning,  and  stopped  at  a  res- 
taurant. Miss  Duprez  drank  some  beer^  and  ate  some  Ger- 
man Kuchen  that  must  have  been  too  buttery,  for  imme- 
diately after  she  was  taken  ill,  and  had  to  send  word  to  the 
manager  that  she  couldn't  play  to-night.  It  was  too  late 
to  supply  her  place — too  late  to  change  the  piece  for  an- 
other. Old  Knox  was  in  despair,  when  in  comes  Miss  Reese 
with  the  quiet  assertion  that  she  can  take  the  part.  The 
manager  stares  incredulous.  Miss  Reese  persists,  a  rehearsal 
is  hurriedly  called,  and  it  proves  that  she  can  go  through 
17 


380  WILD   WORK. 

the  part  more  than  creditably,  as  you  see  to-night.  It 
may  end  in  an  engagement  if  the  young  lady  has  aspira- 
tions for  the  stage,  and  is  not  too  devoted  to  her  dear  friend 
to  supplant  her,  which  I  think  possible,  as  the  manager 
tells  me  she  refuses  to  be  paid  for  playing  to-night ;  says 
the  money  must  go  to  Miss  Duprez.  He  is  delighted  with 
her,  swears  she  is  the  handsomest  woman  in  the  world,  and 
worth  a  dozen  of  poor  passee  Miss  Duprez.  Such  eyes  and 
shoulders  may  dazzle  even  a  manager  and  make  him  see 
talent  where  none  exists,  though  I  am  far  from  saying — " 

"Excuse  me,"  said  a  Yoice.  A  gentleman  leaned  for- 
ward from  the  seat  behind  and  touched  the  dramatic  critic 
on  the  arm.  ^^Is  the  actress — Miss  Duprez — dangerously 
ill?" 

Zoe  recognized  the  voice  (though  there  was  a  huskiness 
in  it),  and  turned  round  to  speak  to  Colonel  Alver,  noting 
that,  though  he  bowed  to  her  with  his  usual  smile,  there 
was  a  troubled  look  on  his  face.  She  thought  it  cleared 
somewhat  when  he  heard  that  the  illness  of  the  actress 
was  not  thought  very  serious — an  attack  of  cholera  morbus, 
the  physician  had  pronounced  it.  ''Why  should  it  con- 
cern Colonel  Alver  ?  "  thought  Zoe.  She  could  not  guess 
that,  knowing  Floyd  Eeese  as  he  did,  a  suspicion  had  en- 
tered his  mind  while  he  listened  to  Lance's  story,  a  suspi- 
cion that  Floyd  had  schemed  to  get  the  place  she  occupied 
to-night,  and  had  got  it  by  foul  play.  Ilad  desperation  at 
being  repulsed  by  him  driven  her  to  commit  a  new  crime  ? 
For  he  had  shaken  her  o2  at  last.  She  had  followed  him 
to  New  Orleans.  When  the  trial  was  over,  and  the  prisoners 
set  free  on  their  bond  to  **  appear  when  called  for  " — equiva- 
lent to  an  acquittal — she  came  to  him  with  her  congratula- 
tions and  her  suggestions  of  ambitious  plans  for  the  future. 
He  listened  to  her  with  anger  and  impatience.  How  ut- 
terly heartless  she  was  !     He  owed  the  darkest  regret  of  his 


WILD    WORK.  381 

life  to  her.  She  it  was,  he  now  knew,  whose  schemes  had 
given  a  bloody  ending  to  his  plot.  He  would  have  no  more 
to  do  with  political  scheming.  The  recollection  of  that 
awful  tragedy  which  he  had  inaugurated  was  like  a  smol- 
dering fire  within  him.  It  dried  up  the  springs  of  ambition 
for  ever.  When  she  intimated  that  she  knew  for  a  surety 
that  Witchell  would  be  killed  before  six  months,  he  turned 
upon  her  with  flashing  eyes  and  forbade  her  to  speak  to 
him  on  such  a  subject. 

"  Cursed  be  the  day  that  I  ever  dipped  my  hands  into 
the  foul  stream  of  political  intrigue  ! "  he  said.  And  then, 
looking  at  her  coldly  :  "  You  ask  what  I  am  going  to  do 
now  ?  I  answer,  I  am  going  to  return  to  my  senses  if  pos- 
sible ;  I  am  going  to  attend  to  my  legitimate  business  that 
neglect  has  nearly  ruined.  I  am  going  to  care  fo"  the  in- 
terests and  happiness  of  my  wife  and  children,  who  are  more 
to  me  than  all  the  world.  I  am  going  to  pray  them  and 
my  God  to  pardon  me  for  having  followed  an  ignus  fatuus 
that  I  now  know  was  kindled  at  the  fires  of  hell  and  waved 
by  a  tempting  fiend. " 

His  words  fell  as  blows  upon  her  heart.  In  his  angry 
scorn  of  himself  and  her  he  did  not  dream  what  terrible 
force  his  words  possessed.  He  had  come  to  think  of  her  as 
a  hardened  adventuress,  unscrupulous  as  to  crime,  caring 
only  for  money  and  power.  He  thought  her  passion  for 
him  was  a  mere  pretense  to  gain  her  ends,  as  he  knew  her 
professed  regard  for  Cobb  to  be.  He  had  no  conception  of 
its  intensity — that  it  was  the  one  true  thing  in  the  woman's 
nature.  She  had  felt  death  trampling  behind  her  in  hot 
pursuit ;  she  had  faced  threats  and  insults,  and  horrible 
fears  of  discovery  and  ever-recurring  torture  of  remorse, 
but  despair  had  never  seized  her  as  it  did  at  this  moment, 
when  she  felt  herself  scorned  and  condemned  by  the  man 
she  loved  and  had  sinned  for.    Yet,  wrecked  as  she  felt  her- 


382  WILD    WORK. 

self,  she  did  not  lose  her  self-command,  or  she  lost  it  for  a 
moment  only.  For  a  moment  she  stood  white  and  rigid 
as  stone,  then  she  smiled  in  cold  derision  and  made  him  a 
mocking  obeisance. 

"  Include  me  in  your  prayer,  pious  sir,"  she  said.  Then, 
with  a  bitter  sarcasm  in  her  tone,  she  flung  him  the  rebuke 
of  Mephistopheles  to  Faust.  *^The  de^vil  that  acts,  com- 
mands respect ;  the  devil  that  repents,  I  know  of  no  more 
mawkish  thing." 

She  gathered  up  her  shawl  and  rose.  "Farewell;  I 
shall  never  trouble  you  again,"  she  said,  and  she  was  gone 
from  his  sight  before  he  could  detain  her. 

"  Floyd  ! "  he  cried,  but  she  had  passed  out  of  the  hall 
and  down  the  steps  of  the  boarding-house,  and  w^  hurrying 
along  the  street  as  swiftly  as  though  pursued.  He  caught 
up  his  hat  and  followed  her.  A  revulsion  of  feeling  had 
come  over  him.  He  had  not  meant  wholly  to  abandon  her. 
She  had  devoted  herself  to  his  interest.  For  the  sake  of 
this  devotion  he  would  not  let  her  suffer  through  want ; 
and  though  he  was  no  longer  controlled  by  the  spell  of  her 
intellect  and  her  physical  fascinations,  these  had  not  wholly 
lost  their  power  over  him.  At  a  turn  of  the  street  he 
caught  sight  of  her  figure  flying  rapidly  before  him  in  the 
gray  November  twilight.  A  picture  of  her  face  rose  before 
him  as  he  had  seen  it  just  now,  when  she  bent  to  him  in  mock 
reverence,  her  beautiful  mouth  quivering  with  anguish 
more  than  sarcasm,  her  eyes  wild  and  woful  behind  their 
mask  of  flashing  scorn.  Though  he  believed  this  woman 
to  be  a  beautiful  incarnation  of  evil,  he  still  followed  her 
in  the  drizzly  twilight,  and  felt  a  keen  uneasiness  when  he 
saw  her  steps  were  directed  toward  the  river.  He  was  de- 
tained a  moment  by  an  acquaintance  ;  he  broke  from  him 
unceremoniously,  but  he  had  lost  her,  and  for  a  time  he 
looked  for  her  in  vain.     When  at  last  he  caught  sight  of 


WILD   WORK.  3S3 

her  she  was  standing  on  a  dilapidated,  unfrequented  part  of 
the  wharf,  looking  down  at  the  black  water  below  her  feet. 
He  stood  off  and  watched  her.  The  wind  that  moaned 
round  the  pier  lifted  her  hair  and  drove  a  fine  mist  of  rain 
into  her  face. 

She  stood  motionless.  A  wild  impulse  to  end  her  life 
had  led  her  here,  but  this  impulse  had  been  quenched,  as  it 
had  many  times  before,  by  a  fear  of  death,  or  what  might 
possibly  wait  behind  death.  It  was  probably  nothingness, 
but  what  if  it  were  not — and  if  one  might  meet  in  the  Be- 
yond the  rebuking  eyes  of  those  who  had  been  wi'onged 
and  foully  dealt  with  here  !  As  she  looked  down  into  the 
dark  water  Jiope  looked  up  to  her  from  the  reflection  of  her 
own  figure.  She  could  see  its  outlines  there — faint  but  still 
fair.  The  beautiful  need  never  despair.  There  is  always 
love  for  them — love  which  is  power  and  hope.  Because  she 
had  failed  more  than  once,  must  she  despair  of  success  while 
she  had  that  face,  those  resources  of  mind,  this  will-force, 
that  even  Alver  had  bent  to  ?  She  would  not  give  up. 
The  world  was  wide ;  there  were  many  doors  that  would 
open  to  courage,  to  cunning,  and  persistence.  She  would 
begin  a  new  career ;  she  would  crush  out  this  passion  for 
a  man  who  had  shown  himself  weak  and  unworthy  the 
prizes  to  be  won  by  the  bold.  She  had  next  to  nothing 
in  her  purse ;  no  matter,  her  brain  was  rich  in  schemes, 
fertile  in  resources  that  might  be  coined  into  money. 
She  would  succeed.  She  would  show  Alver  that  she  could 
live  in  spite  of  his  cruelty.  His  scorn  should  not  kill 
her. 

She  did  not  see  him  as  she  turned  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion and  signaled  a  solitary  cab  that  was  passing.  As  she 
was  getting  into  it,  Alver  walked  rapidly  toward  her. 
'^ Floyd!"  he  called  again.  She  saw  him;  fierce  resolve 
nerved  every  feature. 


384  WILD    WORK. 

"  I  said  to  you  just  now,  Farewell  for  ever.  I  shall  never 
step  across  your  i3ath  again." 

The  cab  drove  away.  He  was  left  standing  on  the 
wharf,  hardly  knowing  whether  he  felt  more  relief  or  dis- 
appointment at  being  thus  freed  from  the  woman  who  had 
exercised  such  control  over  him. 

He  found  afterward  that  she  took  up  her  abode  at  a 
fashionable  hotel.  He  wrote  to  her  and  inclosed  a  bank- 
note. Letter  and  money  came  back  to  him.  She  would 
scheme  in  various  ways  to  get  money,  but  she  would  not 
accept  it  from  him.  She  won  her  place  on  the  Varieties' 
stage  by  stratagem,  as  he  suspected.  But  she  had  not 
meant  a  crime  this  time  ;  only  a  trick.  It  was  not  poison, 
but  only  tartar  emetic,  which  she  had  dropped  in  her  com- 
panion's drink.  She  had  determined  to  do  this  when  she 
insinuated  herself  by  flattery  and  delicate  service  into  the 
actress's  confidence,  and  when  she  had  studied  with  secret 
assiduity  and  rehearsed  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  room  the 
favorite  role  of  Miss  Duprez.  She  was  radiant  with  tri- 
umph to-night.  Even  small  success  stimulated  her  intel- 
lect and  filled  her  with  electric  power.  Plot  and  intrigue 
were  vital  air  to  her. 

**  She  was  born  without  a  conscience,"  thought  Alver 
as  he  watched  her. 

Another  watched  her.  Her  Nemesis  was  there,  and  she 
did  not  know  it.  Had  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  gallery, 
they  would  have  met  a  pair  peering  from  under  a  slouched 
hat  that  would  have  made  her  quail  and  falter  in  her  most 
telling  speech.  Cobb  had  remained  in  concealment  until 
the  news  came  to  him  that  the  Cohatchie  prisoners  were 
released,  and  then,  unable  longer  to  restrain  his  impatience 
to  get  possession  of  Floyd,  he  had  followed  her  to  the  city, 
hiring  as  a  deck-hand  on  a  steamboat,  and  sitting  there  to- 
night in  the  red  blouse  and  wool  hat  of  the  roustabout. 


WILD    WOMK.  385 

He  cliewed  his  tobacco  fast  and  fiercely  as  lie  watched 
the  stage.  He  shifted  his  feet  restlessly  ;  drops  of  sweat 
stood  on  his  forehead.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  leaped 
on  the  stage  and  torn  her  away  from  it — this  white-armed 
siren  that  men  were  flinging  flowers  to  and  admiring 
through  their  jeweled  lorgnettes.  If  they  dared  to  inter- 
fere with  him,  he  could  turn  on  them  and  say,  'SShe  is 
mine,"  and  defy  her  to  deny  it.  She  would  not,  in  the 
face  of  the  hold  he  had  upon  her — his  knowledge  of  her 
true  name  and  the  crime  in  which  she  was  implicated.  He 
believed  now  that  she  had  been  deceiving  him  ;  he  believed 
that  it  was  she  who  had  betrayed  his  hiding-place  to  the 
cavalry  and  led  him  the  closest  race  for  life  he  had  ever 
had  ;  but  he  never  thought  of  giving  her  up  for  this.  It 
only  stimulated  him  more  in  his  pursuit  of  her.  He  was 
as  fierce  in  his  resentment  as  in  the  brute  passion  he  called 
love.  He  said  to  himself  that  when  he  had  her  in  his 
power  he  would  make  her  pay  dearly  for  all  this.  He 
would  carry  her  off  to  the  wilds  of  Mexico  or  the  Indian 
Territory,  where  there  would  be  no  men  to  take  her  part 
and  go  mad  over  her,  and  she  should  see  no  one  but  him, 
know  no  will  but  his.  He  would  laugh  to  scorn  her  intel- 
lectual pretensions,  and  make  her  feel  himself  her  master. 
She  had  better  have  lain  low  if  she  wanted  to  escape  him. 
He  had  hunted  for  her  through  the  city,  wherever  he  dared, 
during  the  two  days  he  had  been  here. 

He  had  dogged  Alver's  steps  without  daring  to  speak  to 
him,  and  he  was  here  to-night  to  look  out  for  his  prey,  and, 
lo  !  there  she  was  flashing  behind  the  foot-lights. 

"  What  cheek  she  has!"  he  said,  grimly.  *' Wouldn't 
it  cut  her  down  at  the  knees,  though,  if  some  Texan  or 
Louisianian  in  this  crowd  that  had  knowed  her  in  times 
past  was  to  get  up  and  hollow  out  '  Mabel  Waters  '  ?  " 

The  thought  had  scarcely  passed  through  his  mind  when 


386  WILD    WORK. 

a  voice  behind  him — a  gruff  voice  that  was  familiar  to  him — 
said  : 

"If  I  didn't  know  that  Mabel  Waters  was  dead  and 
paying  the  penalty  of  her  sins,  if  there  is  any  punishment 
hereafter,  I'd  say  that  woman  was  she.  You've  heard  me 
speak  of  her,  Hirne — Jim  Waters's  wife,  that  helped  a  fellow 
to  kill  her  husband  after  they  refugeed  to  Texas  the  last 
years  of  the  war.  She  and  a  young  Texan,  and  Waters's 
overseer,  who  came  with  them  from  bayou  Teche,  were  all 
implicated  in  the  deed.  The  young  man  was  lynched,  the 
overseer  ran  off  to  Mexico,  and  the  woman  got  drowned  in 
trying  to  make  her  escape  ;  but  that  actress  just  gone  off 
the  stage  is  almost  her  image." 

Cobb  trembled  and  slouched  his  wool  hat  farther  over 
his  eyes.  In  spite  of  his  disguise — the  black  dye  on  his 
red  hair  and  whiskers  and  his  changed  appearance — he  was 
afraid  he  might  be  recognized  by  the  old  steamboat  captain, 
who  had  known  him  on  the  Teche.  But  nobody  noticed 
him.  The  play  proceeded,  and  absorbed  the  attention  of 
the  two  behind  him,  or  at  least  of  the  sailor,  for  the  former 
steamboatsman  had  since  taken  to  the  sea  and  had  a  steam- 
ship plying  between  this  port  and  Honduras.  Hirne's  eyes 
wandered  often  from  the  stage  to  the  profile  of  a  lovely 
woman  occupying  one  of  the  seats  below.  He  had  come 
here  to-night  hoping  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her.  He  had  seen 
her  walking  with  Eoyal  and  Kate  the  day  before— the  same 
day  of  his  arrival,  and  though  he  believed  her  to  be  Roy's 
wife,  he  could  not  resist  the  longing  to  look  at  her  again. 
On  the  next  day  but  one  he  was  going  away.  He  saw  them 
go  into  an  office  where  tickets  were  for  sale,  found  out  that 
they  bought  tickets  for  the  Varieties  that  night,  and  got 
one  for  himself  and  another  for  an  old  friend  who  was  with 
him.  He  chose  a  seat  in  the  gallery ;  there  he  could  see 
her  with  little  fear  of  being  seen  by  her. 


WILD    WORK.  387 

When  the  curtain  fell  on  the  third  act  Cobb  heard  the 
gruff -Yoiced  sea  captain  say  : 

"  Hirne,  you're  not  in  earnest  about  settling  down  and 
turning  granger  ?  Better  go  out  to  Honduras  in  the  South- 
ern Queen  with  me.     We  sail  next  Thursday." 

'*  Don't  you  think  it's  time  I  was  done  sowing  wild 
oats  ?"  returned  Hirne.  ^'I  saw  a  gray  hair  in  my  beard 
this  morning.  If  you  had  seen  the  money  I  paid  out  for 
farm  supplies,  implements,  etc.,  to-day,  you'd  think  I  was  in 
earnest  about  turning  granger.  My  farm — stock  ranche 
and  grain  plantation  combined — can  not  be  beat  in  the  sec- 
tion where  I  live.  Settle  down  !  why,  a  man  with  a  family 
can't  play  the  Wild  Eover  well,  can  he  ?  " 

'^  Family  !  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  married, 
comrade  ?  " 

''No,  I'm  not,  worse  luck  for  me,  but  I  shall  have  three 
children  to  keep  me  company — ^two  fine,  stalwart  boys,  and 
a  little  girl  with  dark,  sweet  eyes  and  a  rose-bud  mouth — a 
little  beauty." 

"IS'ot  your  own  children,  surely  ?" 

'^Xo  ;  their  fathers  were  better  men  than  I  ever  was  or 
will  be.  Two  of  them  are  poor  Parkinson's  boys — you 
remember  he  fell  at  Elkhorn  at  the  head  of  his  company. 
My  Jeannie's  father  was  a  young  adjutant  who  was  killed 
near  Richmond  in  the  last  year  of  the  war.  Her  mother 
died  a  few  months  ago." 

*^  You'll  have  to  marry  some  good  woman  for  the  child's 
sake,  if  for  no  other.  I  know  you've  no  use  for  the  craft 
since  the  one  you  had  in  tow  wrecked  you,  and — I  beg  your 
pardon,  comrade,  I  didn't  mean — I  remember — " 

"No  harm  done,"  said  Hirne,  gently.  "I've  got  over 
that  since  I  saw  you  last.  And  I'm  not  a  woman  hater 
any  more,  Lawrence.  I  almost  wish  I  was,"  he  added 
in  thought,  as  at  that  instant  Zoe  turned  her  face  to  Royal 


388  WILD    WORK. 

and  rei)lied  to  something  he  had  said  with  a  little  nod  and 
a  smile  so  sweet  that  Hirne  inwardly  groaned  in  bitterness 
of  heart. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

The  December  sunshine,  bright  as  in  April,  sparkled 
over  Lake  Pontchartrain.  A  light  breeze  wrinkled  its  sur- 
face, dotted  here  and  there  with  sailing  craft  —  fishing 
smacks,  trim  yachts,  and  gayly  painted  pleasure  boats. 
Hirne,  standing  on  the  shore,  drew  a  deep  breath  and  lifted 
his  hat  as  he  looked  out  over  the  silvery  expanse  of  water. 
He  had  sickened  of  the  city,  as  he  was  apt  to  do.  This 
time  its  atmosphere  seemed  more  than  usually  stifling,  and 
he  was  impatient  because  his  business  detained  him  two 
days  longer.  He  had  come  out  here  where  the  breadth  of 
sky  and  water  and  the  fresh  air  were  some  substitute,  for 
the  wild  freedom  of  his  own  home.  A  sober  family  car- 
riage, drawn  by  two  fat  bay  horses,  bowled  up  to  the  lake 
shore  and  stopped  near  the  unheeding  man.  A  bright- 
faced  girl  looked  out  and  spoke  to  a  man  riding  on  horse- 
back alongside  the  carriage. 

''  Oh  !  look  at  the  lake  ;  how  lovely  !  All  crinkling  and 
sparkling.  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  to  take  a  sail  on  it  ? 
Couldn't  we,  Roy  ?    Wouldn't  you  like  it,  Zoe  ?  " 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  the  gloomy  man  on  the 
bank  turned  suddenly  and  saw  the  dark  eyes,  not  seeing 
him,  gaze  out  over  the  lake  with  something  of  weariness  in 
their  look.  And  there  was  a  ring  not  altogether  true  in 
the  voice  that  answered  : 

"  Yes,  it  would  be  delightful." 

''Then  I  will  go  and  get  a  boat — just  a  little  cockle- 
shell that  I  can  manage  myself — and  we'll  take  a  short  row. 


WILD    WORK.  389 

The  carriage  can  wait  for  us  at  your  Aunt  Margaret's,  Flor- 
ence." 

Hirne  recognized  the  speaker  who  bent  in  the  saddle  to 
speak  to  Zoe  and  her  companion  in  the  carriage.  This  was 
the  man  whose  happiness  he  could  not  help  envying — the 
man  he  vainly  tried  not  to  hate . 

He  wheeled  abruptly  and  walked  a  few  steps  away. 
Eoyal  rode  off,  but  returned  in  a  few  minutes  to  say  that 
he  had  obtained  a  boat. 

^'  It  carries  four,"  he  said,  **and  I  thought  of  taking  the 
owner  of  it  with  us  to  help  row,  as  I  am  a  very  poor  oars- 
man, but  I  didn't  like  his  looks.  He  had  a  villainous 
countenance.  I  guess  I  can  manage  the  boat  myself,  espe- 
cially while  the  lake  is  so  calm." 

"Certainly  you  can,"  Florence  asserted  with  a  confi- 
dence Roy  himself  was  far  from  feeling.  They  got  out  of 
the  carriage.  Eoy  gave  his  horse  in  charge  of  the  little 
black  monkey  of  a  footman  who  sat  behind  the  carriage,  his 
gay  suit  and  gilt  cap-band  contrasting  oddly  with  the  sober, 
respectable  vehicle  of  which  he  was  an  ornament. 

The  villainous-looking  boatman  brought  round  his  boat, 
a  narrow,  sharp-nosed  little  trick  gayly  paiijted,  and  with 
"Flirt"  in  red  letters  on  her  side. 

"She  has  a  tricksy  name,"  Eoy  said  as  he  handed  in 
the  two  girls.  "  I  hope  she'll  belie  it  and  be  steady-going. 
For,  I  tell  you  again,  I  am  a  novice  at  the  oars." 

"Fll  show  you,"  Zoe  said,  laughing,  "but  we  must  go 
only  a  short  way." 

They  pushed  off,  and  the  man  from  whom  the  boat  had 
been  hired  came  up  to  where  Hirne  was  standing. 

"  That  younker  dips  the  oars  in  like  he  was  afeard  they'd 
stir  up  somethin'.  He's  not  much  used  to  them,  sure,  but 
he  wouldn't  let  me  go  along.  I  warn't  nice-enough-look- 
ing, I  reckon.    I  only  hope  nothin'  will  happen  to  my  boat. 


390  yVILD    WORK. 

She's  a  good  enough  boat  when  you  know  how  to  handle 
her,  but  she's  narrow,  and  sets  light  on  the  water,  and  that 
sail  makes  her  top  sorter  heavy,  so  if  the  wind  rises,  as  it's 
sure  to  do  toward  evenin',  he'll  have  his  hands  full  to  keep 
her  right  side  up." 

Hirne  looked  thoughtful.  He  made  some  unimportant 
response,  and  walked  away,  with  more  animation  than  he 
had  shown  before.  He  had  not  intended  to  go  on  the  water, 
but  he  now  went  and  hired  a  boat  with  a  boy  to  accompany 
him. 

Koyal's  party  was  tempted  farther  from  shore  than  they 
had  meant  to  go.  A  little  sail  attached  to  the  boat  was 
spread  to  catch  the  favorable  wind,  and  the  party  was  in 
fine  spirits  until  it  came  time  to  return.  The  wind  had 
greatly  freshened,  and  now  it  was  no  longer  in  their  favor. 
The  pretty  "crinkles,"  as  Florence  had  called  the  infant 
waves,  were  now  large  enough  to  excite  her  apprehen- 
sion as  they  broke  against  the  side  of  the  tiny  Flirt,  and 
scattered  their  spray  over  her  gunwales,  which  were  so  low 
she  seemed  constantly  in  danger  of  dipping  water  as  she 
rocked  and  tossed  about.  The  little  sail  was  taken  down, 
and  Eoyal  gave  all  his  attention  to  the  oars,  but  he  found 
difificulty  in  making  his  boat  behave,  and  he  saw  he  made 
no  headway. 

He  grew  hot  and  confused.  Florence's  frightened  face 
and  exclamations  of  alarm,  as  the  boat  careened  this  side 
and  that,  increased  his  annoyance. 

Zoe  was  so  busy  trying  to  quiet  Florence,  and  to  retain 
her  own  composure  as  she  saw  the  wind  increasing  and 
Eoyal  losing  his  self-possession,  that  she  did  not  notice  a 
boat  that  came  straight  toward  them  and  drew  up  alongside 
the  Flirt. 

*^Can  I  help  you  ?"  asked  a  man's  voice,  curtly  but  not 
unkindly. 


WILD   WOEK,  391 

Eoyal  looked  around  sharply.  Mortified  and  annoyed, 
he  was  about  to  giye  a  testy  reply,  but  the  stranger's  manly 
face  made  him  think  better  of  it. 

**  I  believe  I  have  got  more  than  I  can  manage,"  he  said, 
with  a  short,  vexed  laugh.  *^  These  oars  seem  bewitched. 
I  wish  you  had  them.  I've  just  been  admiring  your  oar- 
stroke." 

*^I'll  take  them,"  the  stranger  said.  ^^  Here's  your 
money,  boy  ;  take  your  boat  back.  Hold  her  steady  a  min- 
ute, till  I  can  scramble  over  her  side  ;  keep  the  two  boats 
together  one  second.     There  ! " 

With  a  quick  stride  he  transferred  himself  into  the 
Flirt.  The  little  boat  rocked  wildly  for  a  minute,  and 
Florence  clutched  Zoe  with  a  nervous  grasp,  but  she  gath- 
ered confidence  from  the  looks  of  the  new  man,  and  the 
cool,  prompt  manner  in  which  he  seated  himself  and  took 
the  oars  that  Roy  was  so  glad  to  relinquish.  He  showed  at 
once  that  he  knew  what  he  was  doing  by  the  way  in  which 
he  righted  the  boat  and  sent  her  steadily  ahead  with  a  firm 
sweep  of  the  oars.  Getting  over  the  fright,  Florence  began 
to  forestall  the  teasing  she  expected  by  turning  upon  Zoe. 

'^  Why,  how  pale  you  are  !"  she  said.  ^'And  you  pre- 
tended you  were  not  frightened  at  all,  and  were  so  good  at 
scolding  me.     I  never  saw  you  half  so  white. " 

It  was  true,  but  the  paleness  did  not  come  from  fright. 
Hirne  had  not  once  looked  around,  nor  did  he  glance  at 
Zoe  as  he  stepped  into  the  boat.  His  voice  had  sounded 
familiar  to  her,  but  she  did  not  realize  it  was  he  until  she 
looked  up  as  he  stood  a  second  in  the  middle  of  the  boat — a 
tall,  strong  figure,  in  carelessly  fitting  gray  clothes,  with 
bronzed  neck  and  gray-blue  eyes.  How  her  heart  throbbed 
as  the  blood  rushed  to  it,  leaving  her  with  the  paleness  Flor- 
ence had  commented  on  ! 

Not  a  word  did  Hirne  speak  to  her  during  the  time  he 


302  WILD    WORE, 

v/as  j)ulling  for  the  shore.  He  seemed  taken  up  with  what 
he  was  doing,  and  onl}'  addressed  a  few  necessary  words  to 
Roy.  When  the  bank  was  reached  he  stepped  out  first, 
only  touching  his  hat  to  those  in  the  boat,  and  hardly  listen- 
ing to  Royal's  thanks.  But  he  did  not  go  away,  as  he 
seemed  about  to  do.  He  had  caught  one  glance  from  the 
dark  eyes  that  held  him  against  his  will.  He  stood  a  few 
steps  off,  irresolute,  pretending  to  look  after  a  jaunty  red 
and  black  oyster  smack  that  was  putting  out  from  the  shore. 
Zoe  stepped  from  the  boat  and  went  straight  up  to  him 
and  held  out  her  hand.  As  he  took  it  his  own  shook,  his 
face  changed  color  under  its  sun-bronze. 

**  Were  you  going  away  without  speaking  to  me  ?"  she 
asked,  her  smile  beaming  upon  him.  He  stammered  an 
apology.  She  had  no  time  to  talk  to  him  ;  her  friends  were 
waiting,  wondering  at  her  effusive  gratitude  to  a  stranger. 
She  said:  **  Come  to  see  me;  come  this  eyening."  She 
put  a  card  with  her  address  on  it  into  his  hand,  and  be- 
fore he  could  speak  she  turned  back  and  joined  her  friends, 
looking  so  flushed  and  bright  that  Roy  wondered,  and  Flor- 
ence said  : 

^'Well,  you  are  rosy  enough  now  at  all  eyents." 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

When  Zoe  said  to  Hirne,  "Come  to  see  me  this  eyen- 
ing," she  had  forgotten  that  she  was  due  at  a  party  the 
same  eyening.  As  the  party  was  giyen  to  her,  and  Mrs. 
Melyin  was  going  with  her,  an  excuse  would  be  out  of  the 
question.  She  determined  to  be  ready  early  that  she  might 
haye  a  half-hour  for  Hirne,  if  he  should  come  (his  cold  be- 


WILD   WORK.  393 

havior  made  it  doubtful)  before  her  cousin,  who  lingered 
at  her  toilet,  like  all  passee  belles,  should  be  dressed. 

She  lit  her  candles  at  dusk  and  dressed  rapidly,  though 
with  even  more  than  her  usual  care.  She  wore  a  dress  of 
lusterless  silk,  canary-colored,  with  black  lace  and  yelvet ; 
a  few  pale  yellow  Japan  lilies  in  the  dark,  looped  curls  of  her 
hair.  Her  hand  trembled  as  she  fastened  them  in.  What 
if  he  should  not  come  to-night  ?  if  she  should  never  see 
him  again  ? 

A  ring  at  the  door  brought  a  rush  of  color  to  her  cheeks. 
Lousette  came  in. 

^'  A  gentleman  to  see  you,  Miss  Zoe  j  he  would  not  send 
up  his  card." 

*'  It  is  Mr.  Terrance,  very  likely  ;  he  was  coming  to  go 
with  Cousin  and  me." 

''  It's  not  Mr.  Terrance,  miss.     He's  not  a  city  man." 

*' What  does  he  look  like  ?"  asked  Zoe,  lingering  a  mo- 
ment to  calm  her  happy  flutter  of  spirits. 

^*He  looks  gentlemanly,  but  he's  not  what  I  call  a  fine 
gentleman,  like  your  other  beans,  miss." 

*^Why,  Lousette,  what  is  the  difference  ?" 

''  He  ain't  got  a  slim  waist,  miss,  and  his  hair  ain't  bar- 
berized  fancy,  and  it's  pretty  rough.  Then  his  hands  ain't 
none  of  the  whitest,  and  he  ain't  got  any  seal-ring  on." 

Zoe  laughed  her  old,  merry,  musical  peal. 

"Evidently  my  visitor  is  not  a  fine  gentleman,"  she 
said  ;  "thanks  to  God  who  made  him  a  man." 

She  went  down  stairs  and  glided  unheard  into  the  parlor. 

There  stood  the  hero  of  her  heart — no  fine  gentleman 
Burely,  but  a  noble  specimen  of  the  strong,  free-limbed 
man  !  He  did  not  see  her  at  first ;  he  was  standing  at  the 
chimney-place,  leaning  his  arm  on  the  mantel-piece  with 
his  bent  head  upon  it.  She  came  toward  him  ;  her  dress 
rustling  softly  made  him  turn. 


394:  WILD   WORK. 

He  half  staggered.  He  had  never  seen  her  in  evening 
dress  ;  never  seen  her  beautiful  round  arms  and  neck  bare. 
She  dazzled  him.  He  drew  back  the  hand  he  had  meant 
to  offer,  and  bowed  stiffly  as  he  stepped  back.  But  she 
came  on  to  him,  her  eyes  shining,  her  lips  glowing,  the  dia- 
mond pendants  trembling  at  her  tiny  ears,  her  white  hand 
held  out  to  him. 

The  strong  man  trembled. 

"  Don't,"  he  said,  motioning  her  back  from  him. 

**  You  will  not  shake  hands  with  me  ?" 

'^I —    Forgive  me,  madam,  I  will  shake  hands." 

He  touched  her  hand  with  ice-cold  fingers. 

Zoe  understood. 

"Is  this  our  covenant  of  friendship?  You  were  not 
even  coming  to  see  me,  and  yet  you  said  you  would  surely 
come." 

'*  There  was  a  condition.  And  the  condition,  unfortu- 
nately, is  not  fulfilled.  I  was  first  to  get  over  my  folly — my 
madness.  And  I  have  not.  I  am  as  mad  as  ever.  I  ought 
not  to  have  come  here  to-night.  You  were  kind  to  ask  me, 
but  you  did  not  know.  We  can  not  be  friends ;  I  could 
not  be  harmless  as  your  friend,  so  it  is  best  we  do  not  meet 
again.  I  knew  it  to-night,  but  I  said  to  myself,  *  I  must 
come  once  to  see  if  she  is  happy.  She  did  not  look  alto- 
gether so  at  the  theatre.  And  if  it  should  be  that  he  does 
not  prize  her  as  she  deserves — '  But  it's  all  right ;  you  are 
happy  ;  your  eyes  tell  me  so.  Oh  !  sweet  eyes  ! — I  must  go 
now — I  must  go  at  once.  You  are  going  out,  I  see.  I  will 
not  keep  you. " 

'*  Stay,"  she  said,  detaining  him,  laying  her  ungloved 
hand  on  his  arm  and  looking  into  his  face  with  those  ear- 
nest yet  half-smiling  eyes. 

He  drew  away  from  her  almost  rudely. 

'^For  God's  sake,  don't  touch  me  !  don't  come  near  me  ! 


WILD    WOEK.  395 

Do  you  want  to  drive  me  mad  ?  I  am  trying  to  be  a  good 
and  peaceable  man,  as  you  desired,  but  if  you  look  at  me 
like  that — you  will  make  me  a  murderer  at  heart.  This 
moment  I  could  almost  kill  the  man  who  claims  you  as  his 
own." 

"No  man  claims  me  as  his  own." 

"  What !    Where  is  your  husband  ?    Where  is  West  ?  " 

**Eoyal  West  loves  another  woman.  He  does  not  care 
for  me." 

"  Not  for  yoic  9  Impossible.  Yet — was  that  the  secret 
of  your  sad  looks  the  other  night  ?  Has  he  dared  to  make 
you  suffer  ?  to  desert  you — to  love  another  better  than  you 
— who  are  the  queen  of  all  women  ?  Then  he  deserves  to 
have  me  kill  him." 

"No,  he  does  not,  for  I  am  quite  willing  he  should  love 
another  woman.     Indeed,  I  connived  at  it." 

"  Zoe,  is  it  you  can  speak  this  way  ?    And  you  a  wife  ?  " 

"There  again  you  mistake.     I  am  no  wife." 

"  Not  married  yet  ?    Then  your  engagement  to  West — " 

"Is  broken  off  for  ever.  He  loved  another,  and  will 
marry  her  soon — and  I — " 

"And  you?" 

"  I  had  long  loved  another — ever  since  he  saved  my  life, 
risking  his  own  ;  ever  since  he  held  me,  fainting  and  freez- 
ing, in  his  arms  and  infused  his  own  strong,  warm  life  into 
my  frame.  Yes,  even  before  that,  when  I  saw  him,  though 
wounded  and  in  the  power  of  his  enemies,  spring  to  defend 
a  woman." 

"Zoe,  speak  to  me ;  tell  me,  do  you  mean  to  give  me 
hope?" 

He  was  standing  before  her,  pale,  panting.  He  had 
seized  her  hands  and  was  half  crushing  them  in  his  uncon- 
scious grasp. 

" Do  you  mean  you  could  love  7ne?^' 


396  WILD   WORK. 

Under  his  look  slie  became  suddenly  calm,  her  eyes 
dropped,  the  warm  color  dyed  her  face,  her  neck,  and 
bosom,  and  she  said  low  : 

**  I  have  always  loved  you  !  " 

He  did  not  clasp  her  in  his  arms  as  another  would  have 
done.  Down  he  dropped  on  his  knees.  Still  holding  her 
hands,  he  put  them  over  his  bowed  face,  and  she  felt  the 
hot  tears  on  her  fingers.  A  single  sob  shook  his  manly 
chest.  Then  he  rose  and  stood  up  to  his  full,  proud  height. 
He  shook  the  hair  back  from  his  forehead  ;  his  eyes  shone 
misty  and  splendid,  filled  with  unutterable  tenderness.  He 
took  her  in  his  arms ;  he  showered  kisses  on  the  lips  he  had 
never  hoped  to  touch  ! 

*'My  own,"  he  said  at  last.  *'  May  God  bless  your  life 
as  you  have  blessed  mine  to-night !  " 


CHAPTER  XLH. 

Three  weeks  afterward  they  were  married — a  quiet 
wedding  at  Mrs.  Melvin's,  with  only  a  few  friends  to  wit- 
ness the  ceremony,  and  no  relatives  but  Hugh  and  his  wife 
and  the  children,  whom  Zoe  in  her  letter  to  Hugh  had  es- 
pecially enjoined  him  to  bring.  The  man'iage  was  a  great 
surprise.  Some  of  Zoe's  friends  declared  she  was  throw- 
ing herself  away  on  an  adventurer.  Wild  tales  were  told 
of  Hirne's  past  life,  but  his  proud  look,  his  open  brow, 
contradicted  anything  that  would  have  called  his  honor  in 
question,  while  in  his  eyes  a  certain  kindly,  even  tender 
expression,  shading  into  melancholy,  told  of  generous  and 
affectionate  impulses,  upon  which  circumstances  had  fallen 
with  the  effect  to  chill  but  not  to  destroy.  Hugh,  who 
thought  Zoe  good  enough  for  a  prince,  demurred  at  first  at 


WILD   WORK.  397 

this  marriage  with  a  stranger,  but  he  was  won  over  by  the 
manliness  of  the  man,  no  less  than  by  the  numerous  certifi- 
cates of  respectability,  and  even  of  high  standing,  which  he 
brought  forward.  Hugh  found  that  Hirne  had  friends  in 
the  city  among  the  best  of  the  old  proud  families — friends 
who  knew  him,  knew  of  all  his  eccentricities  and  their 
source,  knew  of  the  generous  and  gentle  nature  which  lay 
under  a  surface  that  had  been  lashed  into  turbulence  by 
wrong.  They  rejoiced  in  the  fair  prospect  there  was  now 
that  the  current  of  his  life  would  become  clear  and  flow 
calmly  and  beneficently  to  the  end. 

Hirne's  pecuniary  circumstances  came  to  light  in  the 
insight  into  his  affairs  which  he  gave  to  Zoe's  brother.  She 
found  that,  instead  of  marrying  a  man  of  small  means,  as 
she  had  thought,  her  lover  had  large  possessions  in  lands 
and  cattle. 

Two  days  before  Zoe's  modest  wedding  she  had  been 
first  bridesmaid  at  a  large  and  fashionable  one,  where  she 
had  seen  her  merry  friend  Kate  transformed  into  Mrs. 
Winter  Lareau.  Florence  Taylor  was  second  bridesmaid, 
looking  extremely  pretty  in  her  dress  of  peach-bloom  silk, 
with  peach-buds  in  her  blonde  hair. 

Prettier  still  she  looked  when,  two  weeks  later,  she 
stood  before  the  priest,  a  bride  herself,  little  and  childlike 
in  contrast  to  Roy's  tall  stature,  but  with  a  woman's  sweet 
earnestness  on  her  young  brow. 

Hirne  and  his  wife  sailed  for  Cuba  to  pay  a  visit  to  Zoe's 
father.  Afterward  they  would  go  to  New  York,  take  a 
look  at  the  Great  Lakes,  the  Falls,  etc.,  as  bridal  pairs  are 
in  fashion  bound  to  do,  and  then  return  to  New  Orleans 
via  the  great  Mississippi  and  a  luxurious  steamboat.  From 
New  Orleans  they  would  go  to  Hirne's  Texas  home.  The 
supplies,  to  purchase  which  he  had  come  to  the  city,  had 
already  preceded    him ;    the    provisions,   farming  imple- 


398  WILD    WORK. 

ments,  etc.,  had  been  shipped,  together  with  a  big  box  of 
presents  chosen  by  him  and  Zoe  for  the  boys  and  the  little 
girl  Jeannie,  whom  a  good  neighbor  was  taking  care  of. 

As  Zoe  was  being  driven  to  the  levee  to  take  passage  on 
the  steamer  Citrus  for  Cuba,  she  passed  an  almost  close 
carriage  containing  a  veiled  lady.  The  passing  of  a  funeral 
procession  along  a  cross-street  delayed  the  two  carriages  a 
few  moments  ;  the  lady's  veil  was  inadvertently  pulled  to 
one  side,  and  Zoe  caught  a  glimpse  of  Floyd  Reese's  bril- 
liant eyes.  In  that  brief  glance  the  eyes  of  the  adventuress 
seemed  somewhat  hollow  and  anxious.  She  hurriedly  ad- 
justed her  veil  and  sig^ialed  that  the  carriage  should  be 
driven  on. 

Zoe  had  heard  of  Floyd  as  being  regularly  engaged  by 
the  theatrical  company  in  which  she  had  played  during  the 
illness  of  Miss  Duprez.  That  actress,  after  a  protracted 
indisposition,  had  found  herself  so  coldly  treated  by  the 
manager  that,  in  a  fit  of  anger,  she  threw  up  her  engage- 
ment. This  was  just  what  the  manager  desired  ;  and  he 
immediately  offered  her  place  to  Floyd.  The  new  leading 
lady  became  a  favorite  at  once.  She  played  with  a  fresh- 
ness and  enthusiasm  wanting  in  hackneyed  actors.  Then 
romance  threw  its  rose-colored  mist  around  her  history  and 
her  present  life,  enhancing  the  attractions  of  her  beauty 
and  talents.  It  was  said  that  she  w^as  followed  and  watched 
by  a  jealous  husband  or  a  revengeful  lover,  and  was  con- 
stantly in  fear  of  her  life.  She  kept  her  rooms  always 
locked.  She  saw  no  company,  visited  no  public  places, 
took  no  pleasure  drives  or  sails,  though  invitations  j^oured 
upon  her  from  her  admirers. 

She  drove  to  the  theatre  to  rehearsals  in  the  day  in  a 
close  carnage.  In  the  evenings  when  she  was  to  play  a 
policeman  rode  beside  her  carriage,  being  assigned  that 
duty  on  her  representing  that  she  was  threatened  with  vio- 


WILD   WORK.  399 

lence  from  a  certain  party.  When  upon  the  stage  her 
companions  had  more  than  once  seen  her  shudder  and  turn 
pale.  It  was  when  her  look  had  been  drawn  irresistibly  to 
the  gallery,  and  she  had  seen  there  a  dreaded  face — eyes 
that  watched  her  with  a  sinister  blending  of  hate  and  sen- 
sual passion.  That  face  made  her  life  a  perpetual  dread. 
Each  night  her  heart  stood  still  as  the  curtain  rose  upon 
her  lest  she  should  hear  his  voice  cry,  "Mabel  Yv^'aters, 
your  career  is  ended  !  "  There  was  the  constant  fear,  too, 
that  some  one  among  the  audience  might  recognize  her 
and  proclaim  her  identity  with  the  Texas  refugee,  the 
woman  who  had  been  accessory  to  her  husband's  murder, 
and  who  was  believed  to  have  been  drowned  in  flying  from 
the  Texas  avengers. 

Each  night,  when  Cobb's  steady  stare  drew  her  eyes  to 
his  with  a  horrid  fascination,  she  saw  that  his  bloated  vis- 
age and  bloodshot  eyes  had  grown  more  malignant.  She 
had  refused  to  see  him  or  to  allow  him  to  speak  to  her,  and 
on  several  nights  he  had  been  repulsed  by  the  police  when 
he  attempted  to  stop  her  on  her  way  to  the  carriage  which 
waited  for  her  near  the  private  entrance  of  the  theatre. 
Once  he  had  resented  this,  and  received  five  days  in  the 
lock-up. 

These  things  had  worked  in  his  revengeful  blood,  in- 
flamed to  fiercer  madness  by  the  hard  drinking  he  had  taken 
to.  She  feared  he  would  be  wrought  to  the  desperate  point 
of  giving  himseK  up  to  justice  that  he  might  denounce  her 
and  secure  her  punishment.  He  was  further  maddened  by 
finding  he  could  get  no  more  money  from  Alver,  who,  be- 
fore he  had  left  the  city,  had  thrown  him  a  bill  as  he  would  a 
bone  to  a  dog,  and  told  him  to  keep  out  of  his  sight  for  ever. 

He  found  himself  unable  to  carry  out  his  design  of  get- 
ting Floyd  in  his  possession.  Pinched  by  necessity,  and 
forced  to  work  on  the  levee  to  get  money  to  buy  liquor  and 


400  WILD    WORK. 

a  ticket  for  the  gallery  of  the  theatre,  the  man  was  like  a 
snake  pinned  to  the  earth,  writhing  and  lashing  himself 
impotently,  and  ready  to  turn  his  fangs  upon  himself  in  his 
rage  and  despair. 

Floyd  knew  well  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  her 
dread  of  him  increased.  She  determined  to  abandon  her 
present  situation,  throw  away  her  hopes  of  fame  and  for- 
tune, turn  her  back  on  the  adulation  that  was  sweet  food 
to  her  vanity,  take  what  money  she  had  saved,  and  slip 
away  somewhere — anywhere  so  that  it  was  out  of  sight  of 
her  watchful  enemy.  He  would  not  be  looking  for  her  to 
take  this  move.  He  knew  the  company  to  which  she  be- 
longed was  soon  to  leave  for  Mobile.  He  expected  her  to 
go  with  it.  She  had  been  warned  by  a  dirty  scrawled  note, 
inclosed  in  a  bouquet  thrown  to  her  on  the  stage,  that  she 
would  not  be  suffered  to  leave  with  the  company. 

"  'There's  a  slip  'tween  the  cup  and  the  lip,'  and  you'll 
find  the  slip,  my  lady,"  he  wrote.  *' Make  your  arrange- 
ments if  you  like,  but  you'll  find  me  planted  in  your  path. 
I've  stood  it  long  enough,  and  if  you  don't  come  and  go 
with  me,  according  to  promise,  we'll  both  go  together  to 
Uncle  Sam's  hotel,  or  to  worse.     That's  all." 

It  was  this  note  that  had  determined  her  to  abandon  her 
situation  and  make  her  escape  secretly.  She  would  go  to 
Cuba,  or  to  some  other  of  the  West  India  Islands,  or  she 
would  stop  at  some  lonesome,  out-of-the-way  point  on  the 
Florida  coast — anywhere  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  Cobb, 
with  the  terrible  vision  of  the  gallows  or  the  prison  cell, 
which  the  sight  of  his  watchful  eyes  brought  up  to  haunt 
and  torture  her. 

She  reached  the  wharf  five  moments  after  Zoe  and  her 
husband  had  gone  on  board  the  Citrus.  As  slie  descended 
from  the  carriage  two  men,  dirty  and  unshaven,  were 
working  near  her  on  the  levee.     One  looked  up. 


WILD    WORK.  401 

^^Dommed  if  that  woman  ain't  got  a  foine  foot  and  leg 
of  her  own,"  he  said. 

The  other  looked,  started,  dropped  his  crow-bar,  and 
stared  at  the  veiled  and  muffed  lady  a  moment.  Then,  as 
she  passed  them  on  her  way  down  to  the  ship,  he  muttered 
to  himself :  "  It's  her.  There's  no  other  can  walk  like 
her.  It's  that  she-devil,  I'd  almost  swear.  She's  tryin'  to 
get  away  from  me,  but  I'll  follow  her.  Let  me  see.  Curse 
the  luck  !  I've  got  but  one  dollar  in  the  world.  Well,  I'll 
hire  myself  and  work  my  passage — no ;  I'm  tired  of  the 
cussed  work  ;  I  hate  it ;  but  I've  got  so  shabby  that  rogues 
won't  have  me  in  their  ring.  All  through  her.  I've  been 
dodgin'  after  her,  doing  black  work  for  her,  riskin'  the  rope 
and  the  chain-gang  for  her,  and  gettin'  paid  in  deceitful 
smiles  and  kisses  as  long  as  she  had  use  for  me,  and  now 
she  flings  me  off,  spits  on  me,  thinks  I'm  too  low  down  to 
harm  her.  I'll  show  her.  I'll  pay  her,  if  I  have  to  swing 
with  her,  or  rot  with  her  in  jail,  though  there's  not  a  jail 
in  Texas  that  could  hold  me  long." 

As  these  thoughts  worked  in  his  half -crazed  braiii  he 
was  watching  the  veiled  woman  greedily.  The  polite  cap- 
tain had  assisted  her  on  board  the  vessel.  As  she  stepped 
on  the  lower  deck  a  puff  of  wind  blew  aside  her  thick  veil. 
She  clutched  it  hastily  and  drew  it  over  her  face,  but  not 
before  the  sunlight  had  flashed  on  her  white  brow  and 
golden  hair.  The  sight  maddened  Cobb  yet  more.  His 
eyes  shot  a  baleful  flash  from  their  bloated  sockets,  he 
ground  his  teeth  into  his  filthy  dyed  mustache  ;  his  com- 
panion spoke  to  him,  but  he  made  no  answer.  He  sat  down 
on  a  cotton  bale,  pulled  out  a  dirty  memorandum  book,  and 
wrote  these  lines : 

To  Captain  Lawrence,  of  the  Southern  Queen  : 

Cobb  Watson,  the  murderer  of  your  old  friend  Waters, 


402  WILD   WORK 

and  Mabel  Waters,  his  wife,  who  was  accessory  to  the  mur- 
der, are  both  on  board  the  Citrus  bound  for  Cuba.  If  you 
would  punish  the  guilty,  take  instant  measures. 

He  folded  this,  and,  with  it  in  his  hand,  went  up  to  the 
mate  of  the  vessel,  touched  his  hat  respectfully,  and  asked 
if  an  experienced  deck-hand  was  not  needed  on  the  Citrus. 
Hardly  looking  at  him,  the  officer  answered  gruffly  that  the 
Citrus  had  all  the  hands  she  wanted. 

**  But  if  I  give  you  work  for  nothing — such  work  as 
these  here  can  do — "  he  said,  stretching  out  his  stalwart, 
hairy  arms. 

The  mate  cast  his  eye  around,  and  was  rather  impressed 
by  the  muscular  limbs. 

'^Nothing?"  he  repeated,  gruffly.  '^Can  3'ou  sleep  in 
a  rat-hole  with  a  hard-tack  for  rations  ?  " 

The  sailors  within  hearing  burst  into  a  laugh.  Cobb, 
with  a  grin,  answered:  "Ay,  ay,  sir."  The  prompt  re- 
sponse, and  the  laugh  which  he  took  as  a  compliment  to 
his  wit,  put  the  old  tar  in  a  good  humor. 

*^  Tumble  in,  then  ;  tumble  in,  my  hearty.  We'll  give 
you  a  trial.  If  your  work  is  as  bad  as  your  looks,  though, 
we'll  turn  you  into  another  Jonah  sure ." 

Cobb  went  to  the  purser's  office  and  bought  an  envelope, 
in  which  he  put  the  slip  of  paper  he  held  in  his  fist,  and  di- 
rected it  to  Captain  Lawrence,  of  the  Southern  Queen. 

Captain  Lawrence  had  delayed  sailing  for  Honduras 
owing  to  repairs  that  had  to  be  made  in  his  ship,  which  had 
been  injured  by  being  run  into  by  another  vessel  while  she 
was  in  the  harbor. 

"  Ain't  you  a  coming  to  finish  this  job  ?"  asked  Cobb's 
fellow-workman,  a  burly  Irishman. 

"No.  I've  got  another.  I've  shipped  on  the  Citrus. 
Comrade,  where's  your  boy  ?    He  brought  your  breakfast 


WILD    Vr^ORK  403 

a  while  ago.  lie's  a  sharp  one,  and  I  want  him  to  do  a  bit 
of  errand  for  me.  Here  he  is  now.  Simps,  here's  a  quarter 
for  you  if  you'll  take  this  letter  to  Captain  Lawrence,  at  the 
Southern  Queen.     Do  you  know  where  she  lies  ?  " 

"Sartain  I  do,  and  the  capVs  there  a  overseein'  the 
workmen.     I  seen  him  a  while  ago. " 

"Well,  take  him  this  at  once,  so  he'll  get  it  before  the 
Citrus  pushes  off." 

The  boy  nodded,  but  he  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  go,  and 
rung  the  quarter  against  his  old  jack-knife  to  test  the  silver. 
The  Citrus  whistled  a  warning  for  all  to  come  on  board. 

"  Go,  I  tell  you,"  cried  Cobb  to  the  boy.  "  They'll  fol- 
low us,"  he  thought  grimly  as  he  hurried  on  board.  Ten 
minutes  after  the  steamship  was  on  her  way. 

She  had  run  for  two  hours.  The  "city  of  one  vast 
plain  "  was  out  of  sight ;  the  shores,  adorned  with  white  vil- 
las and  green  orange  groves,  had  given  place  to  flat  marshes 
and  canebrakes  ;  the  river  was  broadening,  sea-like,  toward 
its  mouth,  when  a  little  steam-tug  was  seen  up  stream, 
puffing  as  it  cut  the  waters  like  a  teal.  It  bore  down  on 
the  Citrus  and  signaled  her  to  stop.  In  a  few  moments  it 
was  alongside  the  vessel ;  three  men  came  on  board  and 
showed  the  commander  a  warrant  to  arrest  two  persons  on 
board  his  ship  :  one,  Cobb  Watson,  who  had  committed  a 
murder,  and  Mabel  Waters,  who  was  accessory  to  it.  Captain 
Lawrence  was  here  to  point  out  the  accused,  who  were  well 
known  to  him.  The  captain's  usually  ruddy  visage  was  pale 
with  excitement.  He  would  not  have  been  so  ready  to  have  a 
warrant  of  arrest  sworn  out  on  the  strength  of  that  anony- 
mous note,  had  he  not  twice  had  a  look  at  Cobb's  features 
during  the  past  week,  and,  in  spite  of  his  disguise,  been  im- 
pressed with  his  resemblance  to  Watson,  the  overseer  and 
murderer,  as  he  had  been  struck  by  the  likeness  of  the  beau- 
tiful actress  to  Floyd  Reese.     This  resemblance  had  haunted 

18 


40^1-  WILD    WORK. 

the  mind  of  the  worthy  sailor,  and  troubled  him  no  little. 
He  hailed  the  note  as  a  possible  solution  of  the  mystery, 
and  was  determined  to  pay  all  expenses  in  order  to  get  at 
the  facts  in  the  case. 

Cobb  was  found  and  identified  as  Watson,  the  criminal, 
and  handcuffed  at  once. 

'^I^ow  get  the  woman,"  he  said.  *'She  is  up  stairs  in 
the  cabin,  being  quality,"  and  he  laughed  maliciously. 

They  started  in  search  of  her.  She  was  on  deck,  enjoy- 
ing the  sunset  and  the  admiration  her  beauty  excited  among 
the  male  passengers. 

Miserable  as  she  felt,  full  of  forebodings  that  fevered  her 
brain  and  thronged  her  sleep  with  horrible  dreams,  she  yet 
found  men's  admiring  looks  a  sweet  elixir.  She  stood  lean- 
ing on  the  railing,  the  sunset  reflection  making  her  fair 
skin  more  dazzling,  her  plenteous  hair  more  like  spun  red 
gold.  The  fine  molding  of  her  bust,  her  arms,  and  limbs 
was  apparent  under  the  soft  clinging  dress  of  gray.  She 
knew  men  were  looking  at  her  with  quickened  pulses.  She 
was  thinking,  "  Once  in  Cuba  out  of  reach  of  that  wretch, 
I  will  make  all  this  white  and  red  and  gold  of  mine  serve 
me  in  good  stead.  Those  meager,  swarthy  Spaniards  will 
lose  their  senses  over  my  white,  plump  beauty.  It  shall 
buy  me  a  rich  old  Don  for  a  husband,  and  I  will  reign  in 
the  tropic  capital  a  sort  of  queen." 

Hanging  over  the  railing,  watching  the  sunset-painted 
waters,  and  building  these  gilded  castles,  she  heard  not  the 
first  tokens  of  the  approaching  Nemesis  that  would  throw  a 
black  pall  over  castles  and  castle-builder.  She  heard  not 
the  hail  of  the  steam-tug,  and  only  wondered  a  little  at  the 
sound  of  confused  voices  below  that  presently  drew  the  men 
away  who  had  been  watching  her  with  lazy  admiration  as 
they  stood  or  sauntered  about.  She  was  left  alone  upon 
the  deck.     An  excited  voice  within  broke  her  reverie,  and 


VflLD    WORK.  405 

brought  her  to  the  door  of  the  cabin  to  find  out  what  was 
the  matter.  A  negro  waiter,  his  eyes  round  and  big  with 
news,  was  telling  that  a  tug  had  overtaken  the  ship,  and 
the  sheriff  and  some  more  men  had  come  on  board  and 
arrested  a  man  named  Cobb  for  murder.  "And  now,"  he 
went  on,  "they're  comin'  up  to  git  the  other." 

"Another  man  to  be  arrested,  you  say  ?"  asked  Floyd, 
in  sharp,  quick  tones  from  the  door. 

"No,  miss — no  man  at  all ;  t'other  one's  a  woman  :  Ma- 
bel Waters,  I  hear  'em  call  her.  Here  dey  come  up  stairs 
now  !" 

Floj^d  glided  from  the  door  like  a  specter ;  round  to  the 
rear  part  of  the  boat  she  darted ;  looked  one  instant,  with 
clinched  hands  and  convulsed  face,  upon  the  dark,  foam- 
streaked  waters  below,  and  crying,  "God,  if  there  be  a 
God,  have  mercy  on  what  you  made  !"  she  threw  herself 
over  the  railing.  There  was  an  echoing  plash,  and  the 
dark  waters  closed  over  the  fair  face  for  ever. 

The  officers  of  justice  found  no  Mabel  Waters  on  whom 
to  serve  their  w^arrant.  Cobb,  when  he  learned  her  fate, 
dropped  his  head  in  his  hands  with  a  groan.  The  re- 
vengeful feeling  that  had  driven  him  to  betray  her  at  his 
own  cost  died  out,  and  left  him  gloomy  and  sullen.  He 
never  suffered  on  the  gallows.  He  died  of  malignant  fever 
ten  days  after  he  was  committed  to  prison  for  trial. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

WiTCHELL  had  been  disappointed  in  his  efforts  to  pun- 
ish the  slayers  of  his  brother  and  his  friends.  The  disap- 
pointment was  a  keen  blow  to  him,  but  he  gave  no  sign. 
His  pride  and  his  stern  determination  forbade  him  to  give 


4ij6  TTYZZ>    WORlu 

up  his  ofiice  and  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  people  who 
had  shown  such  opposition  to  his  rule.  He  determined  to 
go  back  among  them,  to  carry  on  his  business  as  of  old,  to 
levy  taxes,  control  courts,  and  be  supreme  in  administrative 
matters  as  he  had  been  before.  Eule  he  would,  as  he  had 
once  said,  "if  not  by  good  will,  then  by  force."  It  was  the 
only  stimulus  left  for  him,  since  Death  had  laid  its  destroy- 
ing hand  on  the  best  of  love  and  friendship  that  had  been 
granted  him — such  love  and  such  friendship  as  had  seldom 
been  given  to  a  man.  All  that  had  been  soft  in  his  nature 
hardened  into  iron  now,  and  the  man  who  once  more  rode 
through  the  streets  of  Cohatchie  was  a  stern  and  smileless 
man,  w^hose  eye  had  the  cold  flash  of  a  bayonet,  whose  brow 
never  relaxed,  whose  voice  uttered  only  necessary  words  in 
hard,  metallic  accents. 

He  was  here  at  this  time  to  superintend  the  collecting 
of  taxes.  They  should  be  placed  in  his  hands  as  formerly  ; 
and  he  was  rigid  in  exacting  every  dollar  that  could  be 
claimed.  He  rode  occasionally  from  his  home  to  Cohat- 
chie unarmed  and  unguarded,  unless  when,  at  his  mother's 
intercession,  some  friend,  armed  with  gun  or  pistol,  joined 
him  and  rode  beside  him  under  some  friendly  pretext. 

One  heard  that  Witchell  had  at  last  returned  unaccom- 
panied by  his  guard  of  troops — one  who  had  hoarded  up 
revenge  against  him  for  years.  Lanier  had  not  gone  back 
to  Mexico.  He  had  hidden  in  the  lake  swamp  until  dis- 
covered and  forced  to  fly.  But  he  had  not  gone  far.  He 
was  just  within  the  Texas  border  when  he  learned  that  the 
man  he  hated  so  vindictively  had  returned  to  Cohatchie 
and  rode  at  large,  unprotected  by  cavalry.  He  came  back 
at  once. 

He  lay  in  wait  several  days  for  his  prey.  At  last  he  saw 
Witchell  ride  up  to  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  with  one 
Kane,  who  had  married  an  elder  sister  of  Witchell,  long 


WILD    WORK.  407 

since  dead.  Tlirough  a  screen  of  trees  he  watched  the  two 
leave  their  horses  fastened  to  a  tree  on  the  upper  bank,  enter 
a  boat  that  had  a  negro  oarsman,  and  proceed  to  cross  over 
to  the  Cohatchie  side  of  the  river.  When  they  were  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream,  Lanier  rode  out  from  the  trees, 
pointed  his  repeating  gun  at  Witchell,  and  fired.  The  ball 
struck  Witchell  in  the  side  with  such  force  as  to  knock 
him  backward  into  the  water.  Wounded,  but  not  mor- 
tally, he  clung  to  the  side  of  the  boat  with  both  arms. 
Lanier  took  aim  again  and  shattered  one  of  his  enemy's 
arms.  Still  he  clung  on  with  the  other.  Once  more  the 
gun  was  raised,  but  Kane  had  now  recovered  from  his  first 
shock,  and,  seizing  his  own  gun,  sent  a  bullet  at  Lanier. 
It  grazed  his  forehead.  He  laughed  derisively,  shook  back 
his  wild  hair,  covered  Kane  with  his  weapon,  and  fired, 
killing  him  instantly.  Another  shot  in  quick  succession 
shattered  Witchell's  other  arm,  and,  loosing  his  hold,  he 
dropped  back  into  the  water. 

''For  God's  sake,  don't  shoot  any  more  !  Both  de  men's 
dead,"  the  negro  shouted. 

The  madman  laughed  again. 

*'  Well,  they'll  make  better  buzzard's  meat  than  State 
officers  any  day,"  he  called  back.  He  wheeled  his  horse 
and  rode  deliberately  away. 

Witchell  was  not  dead.  As  soon  as  Lanier  turned  from 
the  bank  the  negro  drew  the  mangled  man  from  the  blood- 
dyed  waters  and  laid  him  in  the  boat  beside  the  corpse  of 
Kane.  He  was  taken  back  to  his  house  and  laid  down  in 
the  same  room  where  Adelle  had  closed  her  dark  eyes  for 
ever.  Both  arms  had  to  be  amputated,  and  for  weeks  he 
hovered  on  the  border  land  between  death  and  life.  His 
suffering  was  borne  with  the  stoicism  that  characterized  the 
man.  That  his  life  was  spared  was  due  to  woman's  faithful 
nursing.     Marshall  Witchell  could  never  lack  the  love  and 


408  ^^^^    WOEK. 

care  of  woman.  Some  strange  magnetism  in  this  cold,  re- 
served man  drew  women  to  him. 

This  one,  who  nursed  him  for  love  as  never  a  menial 
would  have  done  for  gold,  was  young  and  fair,  with  a 
delicate  refinement  in  looks  and  manner.  She  hurried  to 
his  hedside  across  a  distance  of  a  thousand  miles  so  soon  as 
she  knew  that  he  was  wounded.  She  sacrificed  friends  and 
reputation  that  she  might  keep  life  in  his  mutilated  body. 
She  hung  over  him  day  and  night,  turning  aside  her  head 
to  hide  her  tears  when  she  saw  his  white  lips  crushed  to- 
gether with  mortal  pain,  or  saw  his  dreary  smile  as  she 
put  to  his  mouth  the  food  or  the  water  he  had  no  hands  to 
take  for  himself. 

It  was  a  bitter  fate !  He,  who  had  so  gloried  in  his 
strength  and  soundness  of  limb,  who  had  been  as  active  of 
body  as  of  mind,  who  had  so  many  proud  purposes  mapped 
out— to  be  henceforth  helpless,  dependent  upon  others 
even  to  raise  his  food  to  his  lips,  to  wipe  the  sweat  of  an- 
guish from  his  brow. 

No  arm  to  execute  the  prompting  of  that  quick  brain, 
that  indomitable  will !  All  his  ambitious  hopes  for  ever 
in  the  dust ! 

The  woman  who  watched  him  so  devotedly  shuddered 
as  she  saw  his  lips  writhe  and  his  brow  work  with  the  bit- 
terness of  that  thought.  At  such  times  she  would  fling 
herself  on  her  knees  by  his  bed  and  pray  for  him  through 
her  tears— pray  to  the  Mother  of  Sorrows,  in  whose  inter- 
cession she  believed.  Maimed  as  he  was,  he  was  dearer  to 
her  infatuated  heart  than  friends  or  home  or  her  own  fair 
fame  as  a  woman  ;  and  when  she  saw  the  faint  hue  of  life 
stealing  into  his  marble  face  she  dropped  tears  of  joy  upon 
the  locks  she  daily  combed  away  from  his  temples. 

He  did  not  marry  her ;  he  was  grateful,  but  his  heart 
was  too  deeply  seared  for  any  tenderer  feeling  to  take  root  in 


WILD    WORK.  409 

it.  He  would  bury  himself  in  solitude ;  no  eye  should  see 
his  humiliation.  He  resigned  his  place  in  the  State  Sen- 
ate ;  he  went  back  to  his  New  England  home.  But  there 
was  no  balm  in  solitude ;  no  rest  in  idleness.  His  spirit 
chafed  at  the  inactivity  of  his  lot ;  recollection  embittered 
the  lonely  hours.  At  last  he  accepted  an  office  he  had  before 
refused — that  of  minister  to  a  foreign  Court.  He  quitted 
his  native  shores,  saying  to  himself,  with  grim  satisfaction, 
that  it  was  for  ever. 

Alver  moved  away  from  Cohatchie.  The  place  was 
haunted  by  associations  he  could  not  bear  to  face.  He  set 
up  his  new  vine  and  fig-tree  in  a  remote  portion  of  Texas. 
There  he  has  retrieved  his  wrecked  fortune.  Few  of  those 
about  him  know  his  history.  He  is  respected,  looked  up 
to  ;  a  group  of  noble  boys  are  growing  up  around  him. 
Abroad  he  wears  the  same  proud,  inscrutable  face,  though 
his  cheek  is  worn  and  his  eye  hollow.  At  home  he  is  sub- 
ject to  fits  of  gloom.  Only  his  gentle  wife  can  soothe  him 
when  these  dark  moods  are  upon  him — when  he  hears  the 
croaking  of  the  raven  that  will  not  '^take  its  form  from  off 
his  door." 

In  the  same  grand  State  live  Zoe  and  her  *^  wild  rover" 
— now  a  peace-loving  citizen  and  a  happy  and  useful  man. 
The  fire  of  his  nature  is  subdued,  not  extinguished.  Enough 
of  the  old  vim  and  enthusiasm  remain  to  make  him  a  leader 
in  those  progressive  movements  in  education,  agriculture, 
and  manufactures  which  are  fast  giving  Texas  a  foremost 
place  among  the  States.  Hirne's  marriage  is  a  most  happy 
one.  His  strong,  rugged  character  finds  its  best  supple- 
ment in  the  tender,  yet  vivid  and  elevated,  nature  of  his 
wife. 

It  is  just  six  years  this  summer  of  1880  since  the  tragic 
event  on  which  this  story  turns  took  place  near  the  little 
river-side  town  of  Cohatchie.     In  this  brief  time  the  spirit 


410  WILD   WORK. 

of  Change  has  moved  strongly  over  the  South.  The  turbu- 
lent, transition  period  is  over ;  the  appeals  to  mob  law  have 
ceased.  The  people  have  learned  to  assert  their  rights 
more  wisely ;  the  Government  to  regard  them  more  care- 
fully. Bitter  exj^erience  has  taught  these  lessons.  Mutual 
sympathy  and  understanding  open  a  fair  prospect  of  union 
in  more  than  name  between  the  two  sections  of  the  Repub- 
lic. In  a  little  while  our  children  will  look  back  with 
wonder  to  the  "dark  era  of  carpet-bag  rule."  A  picture 
of  that  time,  even  imperfect  as  this,  may  then  be  of  interest 
as  a  curious  study  ;  and,  since  history  repeats  itself,  and 
governments  and  society  move  in  circles,  such  a  picture 
may  be  valuable  as  a  warning. 


THE    END, 


A  SnRRIHG  AMEEICAH  KOYEL. 

M    A    N   C   H 


A   NOVEL. 

By  MARY   E.    BRYAN, 

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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

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